I really am working on that timestamp meme ...
But this has nothing to do with that.
A tiny post-ep for Foothold (complete with total disregard for canon) for a-loquita and binkii822. The rest of you may want to run away. Far away.
Also I need a support group for overuse of italics.
Title: The Principle of Cause and Effect
Rating: Adult-ish
Pairing: Sam/Jack
Episode: post-Foothold
Word Count: ~700
Warnings: Canon? What canon?
It should have been peaceful in the still, dark room; Sam lay curled up against Jack's side, head on his shoulder and hand on his bare chest, sweaty and sleepy and very, very happy. After the couple of days she'd had, she wanted nothing more than to lie there and breathe and think about nothing at all.
Unfortunately, Jack had other ideas.
"You shot me?" he asked, his voice no less incredulous than the last - well, she'd actually lost count of how many times he'd asked.
Sam sighed. "Haven't we already covered this?"
"And it doesn't bother you?" Jack continued as though she hadn't spoken.
Irrationally, she wondered if he was trying to get her to shoot him again. "Technically, I shot an alien that was impersonating you."
"You could've been wrong, you know."
Lifting her head from his shoulder, Sam stared into his eyes, scowling.
"What?" He smirked up at her. "You could've."
"I wasn't."
"For which I am eternally grateful. Still, not my point."
Sam dropped her head back to his shoulder, which fortunately hid the roll of her eyes. Time for a change in tactics. "I'm pretty sure I made it up to you," she said, ruffling the hair on his chest and drawing her bare foot up his leg.
"I don't think you can make up for shooting me, Carter."
"I did, though."
"No, you didn't."
"I really did," she said, tugging lightly on a tuft of hair. This particular flavor of distraction had really been more effective before the sweaty and exhausting - but fabulous - sex. "In fact, I seem to recall you saying something along the lines of 'You can do whatever you want as long as you don't stop doing that.'"
"That memory of yours is disturbing. I'd just like to make note of that for posterity's sake. How is it you even noticed what I was saying then?"
She ignored him. "And I'm pretty sure shooting you falls under the definition of 'whatever I want'. So, by the way, does making you sleep on the couch."
"Ah, but see, here's the problem." Jack's hand drifted to her waist, stroking gently. "You've stopped doing it since then."
His fingers brushed below the curve of her breast, and she exhaled slowly, trying to quell the sensations he was - unfairly, she thought - creating. She slid her own hand downward. "If I start again," she asked, "can we stop talking about this?"
He winced and grabbed her hand. "Little soon for that." Then he nudged and pushed and prodded her until she rolled over onto her back, their joined hands coming to rest on the pillow above her head. "You, on the other hand ..." he said, pulling his fingers free and drawing them down her arm, inch by inch until she was breathing hard with the effort not to move.
"Me?" she asked, trying to make the word sound normal between her short breaths.
"Yes," he answered softly, his hand passing the swell of her breast and the skin of her belly and slowly, so slowly, moving lower. "You."
She bit her lip against a gasp.
"Like that, do you?"
"Hmm."
He leaned in closer. "You know," he whispered against her ear, causing her to shiver, "you're insatiable."
She didn't answer, just willed his hand to move a little farther down.
"You're also unstable," he added, a smirk coloring his voice.
"Oh, God." She shoved his hand away and sat up, rolling her eyes at his chuckle and his open ogling of her upper torso. "Here we go again."
"I'm serious, Carter." He propped himself on his elbow and reached out to trace a line on her thigh.
"I hate you," she muttered. Though it would be easier hating him if he'd stop making her feel things like that. She grabbed his hand and shoved him, unprotesting, onto his back before lying down on top of him. "I really, really hate you."
"I know." He grinned up at her. "And how do I know? Because you shot me!"
"Can I go sleep on the couch?"
"Are you kidding? You tried to murder me. I need you where I can keep my eye on you."
She sighed. "I'm going to be hearing this for a while."
He reached up and tugged on her neck, pulling her face down to his. "Oh, yeah," he said, and then he kissed her. And as his hands slipped down her back and his mouth opened under hers and the world began to spin, Sam thought dizzily that it might, it just might, be worth it.
The End.
A tiny post-ep for Foothold (complete with total disregard for canon) for a-loquita and binkii822. The rest of you may want to run away. Far away.
Also I need a support group for overuse of italics.
Title: The Principle of Cause and Effect
Rating: Adult-ish
Pairing: Sam/Jack
Episode: post-Foothold
Word Count: ~700
Warnings: Canon? What canon?
It should have been peaceful in the still, dark room; Sam lay curled up against Jack's side, head on his shoulder and hand on his bare chest, sweaty and sleepy and very, very happy. After the couple of days she'd had, she wanted nothing more than to lie there and breathe and think about nothing at all.
Unfortunately, Jack had other ideas.
"You shot me?" he asked, his voice no less incredulous than the last - well, she'd actually lost count of how many times he'd asked.
Sam sighed. "Haven't we already covered this?"
"And it doesn't bother you?" Jack continued as though she hadn't spoken.
Irrationally, she wondered if he was trying to get her to shoot him again. "Technically, I shot an alien that was impersonating you."
"You could've been wrong, you know."
Lifting her head from his shoulder, Sam stared into his eyes, scowling.
"What?" He smirked up at her. "You could've."
"I wasn't."
"For which I am eternally grateful. Still, not my point."
Sam dropped her head back to his shoulder, which fortunately hid the roll of her eyes. Time for a change in tactics. "I'm pretty sure I made it up to you," she said, ruffling the hair on his chest and drawing her bare foot up his leg.
"I don't think you can make up for shooting me, Carter."
"I did, though."
"No, you didn't."
"I really did," she said, tugging lightly on a tuft of hair. This particular flavor of distraction had really been more effective before the sweaty and exhausting - but fabulous - sex. "In fact, I seem to recall you saying something along the lines of 'You can do whatever you want as long as you don't stop doing that.'"
"That memory of yours is disturbing. I'd just like to make note of that for posterity's sake. How is it you even noticed what I was saying then?"
She ignored him. "And I'm pretty sure shooting you falls under the definition of 'whatever I want'. So, by the way, does making you sleep on the couch."
"Ah, but see, here's the problem." Jack's hand drifted to her waist, stroking gently. "You've stopped doing it since then."
His fingers brushed below the curve of her breast, and she exhaled slowly, trying to quell the sensations he was - unfairly, she thought - creating. She slid her own hand downward. "If I start again," she asked, "can we stop talking about this?"
He winced and grabbed her hand. "Little soon for that." Then he nudged and pushed and prodded her until she rolled over onto her back, their joined hands coming to rest on the pillow above her head. "You, on the other hand ..." he said, pulling his fingers free and drawing them down her arm, inch by inch until she was breathing hard with the effort not to move.
"Me?" she asked, trying to make the word sound normal between her short breaths.
"Yes," he answered softly, his hand passing the swell of her breast and the skin of her belly and slowly, so slowly, moving lower. "You."
She bit her lip against a gasp.
"Like that, do you?"
"Hmm."
He leaned in closer. "You know," he whispered against her ear, causing her to shiver, "you're insatiable."
She didn't answer, just willed his hand to move a little farther down.
"You're also unstable," he added, a smirk coloring his voice.
"Oh, God." She shoved his hand away and sat up, rolling her eyes at his chuckle and his open ogling of her upper torso. "Here we go again."
"I'm serious, Carter." He propped himself on his elbow and reached out to trace a line on her thigh.
"I hate you," she muttered. Though it would be easier hating him if he'd stop making her feel things like that. She grabbed his hand and shoved him, unprotesting, onto his back before lying down on top of him. "I really, really hate you."
"I know." He grinned up at her. "And how do I know? Because you shot me!"
"Can I go sleep on the couch?"
"Are you kidding? You tried to murder me. I need you where I can keep my eye on you."
She sighed. "I'm going to be hearing this for a while."
He reached up and tugged on her neck, pulling her face down to his. "Oh, yeah," he said, and then he kissed her. And as his hands slipped down her back and his mouth opened under hers and the world began to spin, Sam thought dizzily that it might, it just might, be worth it.
The End.