Sam and her boys, 8a: Training, PG13, Sam/Jack/Siler
Back to kirsty841's It's all in the training or to Chapter 8: Of home and friendship
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Summary: Jack getting his groove back
Chapter 8a: Training (PG13)
"S-so going.. to beat.. the crap out of you."
"That's beat the crap out of you *sir*, recruit. And you'll have to get in shape before you can manage it." Siler tried not to smirk too widely at the man puffing along besides him. He was *trying* to keep the pace at something that Jack would accept as 'real', but without pushing him too hard on his first day, but that was a tough line to thread. "Come on son, is that the best threat you can come up with? Talking is part of the exercise, you know. The miles are going to get mighty boring with just puffing to listen to."
"Thought.. had to.. sing."
Siler snorted, "Sorry, I've heard you sing. Rather you talk."
"Kill you.. *painfully*."
Siler slowed a little as he saw Jack start to stumble over his own feet, jaw clenching at how red he was; he was going to have to slow them down soon if the man didn't cry uncle and smarten up, "Come on *general*, lift the feet. You're lucky I'm not commenting on your form."
"Ha!.. You.. drool over.. my *form*... sergeant."
"*Drill*-sergeant, recruit. Get it right."
"That's it." Jack stopped, his heart feeling like it was going to blow out of his ears, bending to rest his hands on his thighs and just pant, his muscles desperate for oxygen. He was already too flushed from the workout to feel the blush at having let himself get so damned out of condition.
"Walk around, Jack, you know suddenly stopping's not good."
He grimaced at the soft tone, hating the need to be babied but unable to deny it as he grunted himself -already stiff, damn it!- upright and walked as ordered.
"And talk."
"How many swearwords do you know?"
Siler grinned at the barely-breathless threat, "A lot. Come on, you've got your breath back, let's jog a bit."
"Can't believe you.. made me go.. to Doc Lam."
Rolling his eyes at the oft-repeated whine and insulted tone, Siler replied blandly, "Yeah, I'm going to put a retired 60-"
"59!!"
Snorting, he ignored the bark, "60 year-old in training without making sure he was up to it? Come on Jack."
He kept the pace low, glad the out-of-shape general wasn't fussing about it, now. A hell of a lot healthier to keep it at a point where he wasn't pushing himself so much.
"Why am I letting you.. do this to me?"
Siler laughed, head thrown back in the bright early morning sunshine, feeling good at the park's fresh air. They'd needed to get out more anyway. "Because you asked for it. No one to blame but yourself."
####
Since Jack had recovered with the speed-walk home from the park, Siler closed the backyard's gate and immediately nodded down at a patch of nice thick grass, "Drop and give me fifty, soldier."
Blinking impassively at the general's automatic glare, he waited for him to do a couple of pushups, obviously without effort, then laid down carefully, full length, on him.
"What?! You can't be serious!"
Siler just grinned, holding himself tensely, ready to roll off if Jack really had a problem. The squawk had sounded more reflex than serious complaint though, and he was still pumping away, albeit more slowly. It wasn't the arms that had lost their tone fastest, sitting at those desks.
Holding his chin from touching Jack's shoulder blade, he smirked to himself, having a lot more fun than he'd expected, "You want to fuck the sergeant? First you have to obey the sergeant."
"The sergeant thinks.. a little highly of his own appeal."
Siler choked on a laugh, trying not to jostle the man he was weighing down, "The sergeant knows exactly what his appeal is. Tighten those abs and thigh muscles, general, no girly pushups if you want a reward..."
"Give all your recruits.. 'rewards', sergeant?"
Sliding a hand gently down and around, Siler laid his palm over Jack's crotch, "You're the first and last of my recruits, general." With a quick, teasing squeeze, he pulled his hand back so Jack could lower himself down to catch his breath. Rolling off, he gave him a minute before slapping his ass, "Time to give that stomach you're so worried about a *real* workout."
He ignored the groan he got in response, laying down himself, knees bent, opposite his red-faced and definitely tired lover so that their runner-clad toes were a few inches apart. Sitting up easily, he grinned, "Come on Jack, straighten out that form or I'll come over there and do it for you."
"Fuck off."
This time he outright laughed, continuing to do sit-ups smoothly, "Language, general!"
"Bite.. me."
Sitting up again, Siler waited until Jack was almost at apogee to shift his balance onto his feet, and then leaned over to nip at the general's upper lip when Jack was all the way up, his mouth open to pant softly.
"See?" he took another nibble in response to Jack's happily closed eyes, "Reward as promised."
Pulling back, he shifted into a crunch and got back into sit-up position to the sound of Jack's slightly wheezing laughter.
On his next rise, though, he frowned, "Use your abs, general. No pulling yourself up by your neck; your arms don't remotely need the work."
"Ha!.. Like.. the arms.. do you.. sergeant?"
Siler shook his head, siting still for a minute to watch his friend with hopefully-hidden concern, finally responding quietly, "..I like all of it, Jack."
"Yeah?"
Siler again shifted himself all the way to his feet, settling for stealing brief, salty kisses since Jack needed to breathe, muttering quietly, "You know damn well I do." When Jack nodded silently, dark eyes serious, Siler nodded with a hesitant smile, "Thirty more, then I get another free ride."
####
"I'm not 20 anymore, you know. You're going to kill me."
Siler rolled his eyes at the complaint, ignoring the moans of pain as he continued the slow massage up onto Jack's bare abs, "If you were 20, we'd still be out there and I'd let you find out about pain all on your own." He was quiet for a few minutes, feeling the muscles under his fingers gradually stop spasming and seeing Jack's expression finally relax. "Why are you suddenly so concerned about getting in shape, Jack?"
"..It isn't sudden. I've been trying to since I got out of DC," brown eyes opened and met his seriously, "I've worked out and stayed in military condition since I was 17, Siler. *This* is *not* who I am. It bothers me. Has since.. Since I realized it was happening."
Straightening his back, stiffened from holding a crouch over Jack's thighs, Siler shook his head, silently noting the way Jack's eyes had wandered for a second there, uncharacteristically showing the lie, "Like you said, we're not 20 anymore Jack. We're not even 40. You know you can't expect your body not to change."
"..*You're* still in shape."
Siler huffed a laugh at the hint of envy in the soft words, "Give me a few years. And throw in a desk-job while you're at it."
The rolled eyes and half-smile that that got him didn't fool him into thinking Jack was anything but still achingly self-conscious, even before he spoke, "Come on Siler, you'd find a way to work out."
He shook his head slowly, sighing at the undeniably gloomy thought, "Maybe. Maybe not. Maybe it wouldn't be enough to 'work out' if the job didn't work me too," he shrugged, "I spend most of the day with my body tensed in strange positions; my muscles are always at work. Get rid of that... and no way could I spend enough hours in the gym to make it up."
Jack glared at him, looking annoyed now, "Telling me I can't get in shape, no matter what I do?"
"No. Telling you that having me put you through boot camp isn't going to take you back 10 years."
"...I know that even running five miles without losing my breath won't mean I can do 20 miles a day for a week; or sprint away from an army of Jaffa. I don't *want* to go back to 10 years ago; I'm not remotely willing to give you and Sam up just to have a six-pack again. But there is a midpoint. One where I'm not so damn self-conscious taking my bloody shirt off."
A part of him wanted to convince Jack that there was nothing wrong with the way he looked, because there wasn't. But on the other hand, he *knew* that the day he found himself in the same position... It would bug the hell out of him to have changed. And nothing anyone said was going to make him less grumpy about how quickly he *was* losing his strength. No, he couldn't blame Jack. But still, if *he* had to put up with mothering...
Rather than continue to argue with words, he shifted backwards until he could lean over, hearing Jack's breath stutter as his lips came down on the edge of his ribcage. When he trailed down, though, hands rose to his nape, "Siler-"
Siler lifted his head, smiling indulgently, "Don't be daft, Jack."
Not so incidentally, to his thinking, Sam had left the day before. And on top of the sudden request to work out together, it was strange just how much reticence had suddenly reappeared between the two of them.
As though Sam being *away* made her less a part of them than when she was at work. Made the two of them suddenly too real. Maybe it was only stubbornness talking, but Siler was damned if he was bending to society's judgement *now*. He'd finally convinced himself that they wanted him here, and Jack seemed to have accepted himself. The fact that Sam wasn't on the planet for a few weeks had no business affecting the intimacy between them.
Siler leaned back down, ignoring the hands still holding his neck uncertainly; if nothing else, this body-consciousness of Jack's was likely making him completely forget any other uncertainties. Which was a good thing since convincing him he was attractive was a damn sight easier than fighting rear-guard action against all-too-frequent news coverage highlighting their society's spasms against anything but love between one man and one woman.
Feeling the hot July afternoon heat their shower-cooled skins, he took his time, using that sheen of sweat to glide his lips along the soft fold of flesh that was bothering Jack so much. The fool man still had the arms of a 20 year-old and legs that would be running 5 miles easily as soon as his lungs came back from their holidays. Even the gut that bothered him so much had plenty of muscle under the offending padding. If his knees weren't shot he'd be passing physicals again in a month. Well, now that he was actually training he would.
Rather than have that be the point though, today's reality was what he needed Jack to know he was happy with. Because even in the very *best* of worlds, one of these years -god, was he really contemplating years?-, they'd all go downhill more permanently.
The hands at his nape were finally relaxing, smoothing into his hair; and that sigh of ease made Siler smile as Jack's body stretched out, arching into his touch. He shifted to lay down, his weight on his forearms and his arousal pressed against Jack's leg as he continued to make his point.
"If that's supposed to convince me of something, Si'," Jack's voice was quiet, more sigh than articulation, giving away the pleasure he was feeling, "I hate to break it to you, but I happen to know that you just like sex a little too much."
Raising his lips, Siler laughed self-deprecatingly, resting his forehead on the left of Jack's diaphragm, breathing in the familiar scent, "Give me a break, Jack," with his weight on his left elbow, he could spread his free hand and smooth it over his lover's warm skin from thigh to sternum, "And anyway.. that *is* the point. *You* damn well turn me on, not a six-pack. Going to turn *your* back on *me* if I get permanently injured?"
The question had been rhetorical, but Siler looked up when Jack's grip stiffened and he lifted his head to growl, "You know *damned* well we wouldn't!"
"Hey!" Siler sat up hurriedly, frowning and reaching for Jack's cheek, "Of course I know," grimacing at the hurt in the man's eyes, Siler leaned his forehead on Jack's, his voice soft with apology, "I was just making a point." Jack's hand coming up to grip his shoulder tightly made him swallow painfully, tensing and trying to edge off the fear he'd just been congratulating himself for beating. Damn he felt cold suddenly. "Told you I was crap at this."
The gravelly mutter sounded so miserable that Jack made himself take a breath and let go of the tension cranking him; with Sam away, they couldn't afford to *both* lose their way. What the hell had started this anyway??
He tugged, jerking Siler down on the bed and then turned to his side so they faced each other, a hand on his throat feeling the sergeant's runaway pulse betraying his impassive expression, "Take it easy. My fault for being on edge." He rolled his eyes at the lack of reaction that got, "Come on, Si', I was being an idiot; you were even *dealing* with that..."
"Not well."
Wincing, since that particular fact was due to *his* stubbornness, Jack grabbed his bicep with mock-roughness, glad to feel him return the jostle, seeing the will to hear in the eyes he kept trained on Jack, "Cut it out, sergeant. There *was* no right way. Just be glad I didn't ask if my ass looked fat." He grinned when that made Siler actually laugh a little.
*And* grab his ass.
Next in the verse is Chapter 8b: Family emergency
or to Chapter 1 for info
To read it all the chapters on one page, click here
Summary: Jack getting his groove back
Chapter 8a: Training (PG13)
"S-so going.. to beat.. the crap out of you."
"That's beat the crap out of you *sir*, recruit. And you'll have to get in shape before you can manage it." Siler tried not to smirk too widely at the man puffing along besides him. He was *trying* to keep the pace at something that Jack would accept as 'real', but without pushing him too hard on his first day, but that was a tough line to thread. "Come on son, is that the best threat you can come up with? Talking is part of the exercise, you know. The miles are going to get mighty boring with just puffing to listen to."
"Thought.. had to.. sing."
Siler snorted, "Sorry, I've heard you sing. Rather you talk."
"Kill you.. *painfully*."
Siler slowed a little as he saw Jack start to stumble over his own feet, jaw clenching at how red he was; he was going to have to slow them down soon if the man didn't cry uncle and smarten up, "Come on *general*, lift the feet. You're lucky I'm not commenting on your form."
"Ha!.. You.. drool over.. my *form*... sergeant."
"*Drill*-sergeant, recruit. Get it right."
"That's it." Jack stopped, his heart feeling like it was going to blow out of his ears, bending to rest his hands on his thighs and just pant, his muscles desperate for oxygen. He was already too flushed from the workout to feel the blush at having let himself get so damned out of condition.
"Walk around, Jack, you know suddenly stopping's not good."
He grimaced at the soft tone, hating the need to be babied but unable to deny it as he grunted himself -already stiff, damn it!- upright and walked as ordered.
"And talk."
"How many swearwords do you know?"
Siler grinned at the barely-breathless threat, "A lot. Come on, you've got your breath back, let's jog a bit."
"Can't believe you.. made me go.. to Doc Lam."
Rolling his eyes at the oft-repeated whine and insulted tone, Siler replied blandly, "Yeah, I'm going to put a retired 60-"
"59!!"
Snorting, he ignored the bark, "60 year-old in training without making sure he was up to it? Come on Jack."
He kept the pace low, glad the out-of-shape general wasn't fussing about it, now. A hell of a lot healthier to keep it at a point where he wasn't pushing himself so much.
"Why am I letting you.. do this to me?"
Siler laughed, head thrown back in the bright early morning sunshine, feeling good at the park's fresh air. They'd needed to get out more anyway. "Because you asked for it. No one to blame but yourself."
####
Since Jack had recovered with the speed-walk home from the park, Siler closed the backyard's gate and immediately nodded down at a patch of nice thick grass, "Drop and give me fifty, soldier."
Blinking impassively at the general's automatic glare, he waited for him to do a couple of pushups, obviously without effort, then laid down carefully, full length, on him.
"What?! You can't be serious!"
Siler just grinned, holding himself tensely, ready to roll off if Jack really had a problem. The squawk had sounded more reflex than serious complaint though, and he was still pumping away, albeit more slowly. It wasn't the arms that had lost their tone fastest, sitting at those desks.
Holding his chin from touching Jack's shoulder blade, he smirked to himself, having a lot more fun than he'd expected, "You want to fuck the sergeant? First you have to obey the sergeant."
"The sergeant thinks.. a little highly of his own appeal."
Siler choked on a laugh, trying not to jostle the man he was weighing down, "The sergeant knows exactly what his appeal is. Tighten those abs and thigh muscles, general, no girly pushups if you want a reward..."
"Give all your recruits.. 'rewards', sergeant?"
Sliding a hand gently down and around, Siler laid his palm over Jack's crotch, "You're the first and last of my recruits, general." With a quick, teasing squeeze, he pulled his hand back so Jack could lower himself down to catch his breath. Rolling off, he gave him a minute before slapping his ass, "Time to give that stomach you're so worried about a *real* workout."
He ignored the groan he got in response, laying down himself, knees bent, opposite his red-faced and definitely tired lover so that their runner-clad toes were a few inches apart. Sitting up easily, he grinned, "Come on Jack, straighten out that form or I'll come over there and do it for you."
"Fuck off."
This time he outright laughed, continuing to do sit-ups smoothly, "Language, general!"
"Bite.. me."
Sitting up again, Siler waited until Jack was almost at apogee to shift his balance onto his feet, and then leaned over to nip at the general's upper lip when Jack was all the way up, his mouth open to pant softly.
"See?" he took another nibble in response to Jack's happily closed eyes, "Reward as promised."
Pulling back, he shifted into a crunch and got back into sit-up position to the sound of Jack's slightly wheezing laughter.
On his next rise, though, he frowned, "Use your abs, general. No pulling yourself up by your neck; your arms don't remotely need the work."
"Ha!.. Like.. the arms.. do you.. sergeant?"
Siler shook his head, siting still for a minute to watch his friend with hopefully-hidden concern, finally responding quietly, "..I like all of it, Jack."
"Yeah?"
Siler again shifted himself all the way to his feet, settling for stealing brief, salty kisses since Jack needed to breathe, muttering quietly, "You know damn well I do." When Jack nodded silently, dark eyes serious, Siler nodded with a hesitant smile, "Thirty more, then I get another free ride."
####
"I'm not 20 anymore, you know. You're going to kill me."
Siler rolled his eyes at the complaint, ignoring the moans of pain as he continued the slow massage up onto Jack's bare abs, "If you were 20, we'd still be out there and I'd let you find out about pain all on your own." He was quiet for a few minutes, feeling the muscles under his fingers gradually stop spasming and seeing Jack's expression finally relax. "Why are you suddenly so concerned about getting in shape, Jack?"
"..It isn't sudden. I've been trying to since I got out of DC," brown eyes opened and met his seriously, "I've worked out and stayed in military condition since I was 17, Siler. *This* is *not* who I am. It bothers me. Has since.. Since I realized it was happening."
Straightening his back, stiffened from holding a crouch over Jack's thighs, Siler shook his head, silently noting the way Jack's eyes had wandered for a second there, uncharacteristically showing the lie, "Like you said, we're not 20 anymore Jack. We're not even 40. You know you can't expect your body not to change."
"..*You're* still in shape."
Siler huffed a laugh at the hint of envy in the soft words, "Give me a few years. And throw in a desk-job while you're at it."
The rolled eyes and half-smile that that got him didn't fool him into thinking Jack was anything but still achingly self-conscious, even before he spoke, "Come on Siler, you'd find a way to work out."
He shook his head slowly, sighing at the undeniably gloomy thought, "Maybe. Maybe not. Maybe it wouldn't be enough to 'work out' if the job didn't work me too," he shrugged, "I spend most of the day with my body tensed in strange positions; my muscles are always at work. Get rid of that... and no way could I spend enough hours in the gym to make it up."
Jack glared at him, looking annoyed now, "Telling me I can't get in shape, no matter what I do?"
"No. Telling you that having me put you through boot camp isn't going to take you back 10 years."
"...I know that even running five miles without losing my breath won't mean I can do 20 miles a day for a week; or sprint away from an army of Jaffa. I don't *want* to go back to 10 years ago; I'm not remotely willing to give you and Sam up just to have a six-pack again. But there is a midpoint. One where I'm not so damn self-conscious taking my bloody shirt off."
A part of him wanted to convince Jack that there was nothing wrong with the way he looked, because there wasn't. But on the other hand, he *knew* that the day he found himself in the same position... It would bug the hell out of him to have changed. And nothing anyone said was going to make him less grumpy about how quickly he *was* losing his strength. No, he couldn't blame Jack. But still, if *he* had to put up with mothering...
Rather than continue to argue with words, he shifted backwards until he could lean over, hearing Jack's breath stutter as his lips came down on the edge of his ribcage. When he trailed down, though, hands rose to his nape, "Siler-"
Siler lifted his head, smiling indulgently, "Don't be daft, Jack."
Not so incidentally, to his thinking, Sam had left the day before. And on top of the sudden request to work out together, it was strange just how much reticence had suddenly reappeared between the two of them.
As though Sam being *away* made her less a part of them than when she was at work. Made the two of them suddenly too real. Maybe it was only stubbornness talking, but Siler was damned if he was bending to society's judgement *now*. He'd finally convinced himself that they wanted him here, and Jack seemed to have accepted himself. The fact that Sam wasn't on the planet for a few weeks had no business affecting the intimacy between them.
Siler leaned back down, ignoring the hands still holding his neck uncertainly; if nothing else, this body-consciousness of Jack's was likely making him completely forget any other uncertainties. Which was a good thing since convincing him he was attractive was a damn sight easier than fighting rear-guard action against all-too-frequent news coverage highlighting their society's spasms against anything but love between one man and one woman.
Feeling the hot July afternoon heat their shower-cooled skins, he took his time, using that sheen of sweat to glide his lips along the soft fold of flesh that was bothering Jack so much. The fool man still had the arms of a 20 year-old and legs that would be running 5 miles easily as soon as his lungs came back from their holidays. Even the gut that bothered him so much had plenty of muscle under the offending padding. If his knees weren't shot he'd be passing physicals again in a month. Well, now that he was actually training he would.
Rather than have that be the point though, today's reality was what he needed Jack to know he was happy with. Because even in the very *best* of worlds, one of these years -god, was he really contemplating years?-, they'd all go downhill more permanently.
The hands at his nape were finally relaxing, smoothing into his hair; and that sigh of ease made Siler smile as Jack's body stretched out, arching into his touch. He shifted to lay down, his weight on his forearms and his arousal pressed against Jack's leg as he continued to make his point.
"If that's supposed to convince me of something, Si'," Jack's voice was quiet, more sigh than articulation, giving away the pleasure he was feeling, "I hate to break it to you, but I happen to know that you just like sex a little too much."
Raising his lips, Siler laughed self-deprecatingly, resting his forehead on the left of Jack's diaphragm, breathing in the familiar scent, "Give me a break, Jack," with his weight on his left elbow, he could spread his free hand and smooth it over his lover's warm skin from thigh to sternum, "And anyway.. that *is* the point. *You* damn well turn me on, not a six-pack. Going to turn *your* back on *me* if I get permanently injured?"
The question had been rhetorical, but Siler looked up when Jack's grip stiffened and he lifted his head to growl, "You know *damned* well we wouldn't!"
"Hey!" Siler sat up hurriedly, frowning and reaching for Jack's cheek, "Of course I know," grimacing at the hurt in the man's eyes, Siler leaned his forehead on Jack's, his voice soft with apology, "I was just making a point." Jack's hand coming up to grip his shoulder tightly made him swallow painfully, tensing and trying to edge off the fear he'd just been congratulating himself for beating. Damn he felt cold suddenly. "Told you I was crap at this."
The gravelly mutter sounded so miserable that Jack made himself take a breath and let go of the tension cranking him; with Sam away, they couldn't afford to *both* lose their way. What the hell had started this anyway??
He tugged, jerking Siler down on the bed and then turned to his side so they faced each other, a hand on his throat feeling the sergeant's runaway pulse betraying his impassive expression, "Take it easy. My fault for being on edge." He rolled his eyes at the lack of reaction that got, "Come on, Si', I was being an idiot; you were even *dealing* with that..."
"Not well."
Wincing, since that particular fact was due to *his* stubbornness, Jack grabbed his bicep with mock-roughness, glad to feel him return the jostle, seeing the will to hear in the eyes he kept trained on Jack, "Cut it out, sergeant. There *was* no right way. Just be glad I didn't ask if my ass looked fat." He grinned when that made Siler actually laugh a little.
*And* grab his ass.
Next in the verse is Chapter 8b: Family emergency