Summary: Established S/J. A series of glimpses into the early relationship of Sam and Jack. After the honeymoon, it's not just happy ever after, as Sam and Jack face the trials all couples must face in learning to live with one another.
Category: humor
Season: Post season 10?
Rating: M/R (This version has been edited for a lower rating)
Warnings: adult themes
Disclaimer: Stargate SG-1 and its characters are the property of Showtime/Viacom, MGM/UA, Double Secret Productions, and Gekko Productions. I have written this story for entertainment purposes only and no money whatsoever has exchanged hands. No copyright infringement is intended. The original characters, situations, and story are the property of the author.
A/N: Don't ask me where this one came from. Here I am writing more relationship fic that I swore I wouldn't write… But for some reason, the idea that Sam and Jack would immediately live happily ever after in a perfect relationship after years of angst, UST and an unequal status always struck me as rather unrealistic. So this one is my idea of a glimpse into an early relationship, after the honeymoon of course. Think of it as a way early prequel to Interruptions if you want.
Special Note: This is actually an edited version of an ahem, more sexually explicit version, rated MA/NC-17, and posted on the Sam and Jack Always and Forever fanfiction site. You can find it under the same title, same pen if you are interested in the unedited version. I have another story on that site, titled Interruptions, also rated MA. (and also crack!fic) Anyway, enjoy, and don't worry, I've not forgotten about IAE. Muse just had some stuff she needed to get off her chest. Obviously.
After the Honeymoon by iamdragonrider
"We never talk," Sam complained, sitting down at the kitchen table across from her husband.
Intent on the sports pages, Jack barely spared her a glance. "We're talking now, aren't we?" he asked, turning a page.
"You just don't get it," she objected. Engrossed in his reading, Jack grunted. Sighing in frustration, Sam stood. "I'm going to work." He didn't even notice when she neglected to give him a kiss.
They had been married for six months. At first, things couldn't have been better. Discovering one another had been a journey unlike anything either of them had ever experienced before.
And then there had been the sex.
The novelty of one another's bodies begged to be explored, and explore they did. For a while, everything else took a backseat to the physical side of the relationship.
Eventually though, the newness wore off, and the constant demands of reality began to slowly wear away at their little piece of utopia. Two people that had spent many years living alone suddenly were faced with the multitude of compromises that came with living together, and in time, even the physical release of sex wasn't enough of a distraction.
Jack left stubble all over the bathroom sink from shaving. Sam had a tendency to leave her wet towels on the floor. She didn't understand why he hated it when she borrowed his razor. Despite having been married before, he didn't see what the big deal about the toilet seat being up or down was.
He was incapable of cooking without leaving a disaster behind in the kitchen. He hated the way she would use the last of the milk, and for some unfathomable reason, put the empty carton back in the fridge. He drove her crazy when he left the dirty dishes in the sink instead of taking the extra step to put them in the dishwasher. She had a tendency to put something in the oven and forget what time it was, becoming engrossed in something else.
Crazy work hours often kept them apart, or made them too exhausted to care when they were together. There were times when she'd take off on her bike, roaring away, disappearing for hours. Jack would plan fishing trips without asking if she wanted to do something else.
Sam hogged all the blankets. Jack hogged the bed.
The minor annoyances became disagreements. The disagreements became arguments.
As time wore on, they couldn't even agree on sex.
"Jack," she said, a hint of desire in her voice, "Come to bed."
He frowned slightly, intent on the TV, not even looking at her. "I will, soon as the game is over," he said. "Aw c'mon! My grandmother could have made that shot!" he complained in reaction to something on the TV.
Sam sat down next to him, leaning her body against his. Under her robe, she wore nothing else, and as she pressed up against him, she could feel the heat of his body through the thin fabric. "Please?" she entreated, leaning in to kiss his neck while sliding a hand up under his shirt to stroke his chest. She ached with a need that only he could satisfy.
Distractedly, he patted her leg, squeezing her knee and sending unintentional jolts up her thigh. "In a little bit," he promised. "NO!" he cried, leaning forward. "Did you see that? I can't believe he let that guy through!"
Frustrated, and the close contact only heightening her longing, Sam knew drastic measures were necessary. Standing, she moved quickly in between Jack and the TV. Untying her robe, she slipped it off her shoulders, letting the soft material slide off her body into a puddle at her feet. The cooler air caressed her bare skin, and Sam moaned softly, closing her eyes.
"No way! You have got to be kidding me!" Jack complained.
Her eyes flew open and she took in her husband, leaning to peer around her naked, aroused body. Surprise held her motionless, while longing kept her hoping. Before her disappointment could mount, his eyes flickered to hers, seeming to take her in for the first time. At this small sign of interest, she smiled, lifting a hand as if to beckon him near. In the next moment though, her hopes were dashed.
"Uh, honey, do you mind moving? I'm trying to watch the game," he said, leaning sideways, his eyes flicking back to the TV.
Frustration at her unfulfilled needs channeled into fury. Her hands dropped to her sides and curled into fists. Her mouth opened and closed, but anger and need left her speechless. "You…. You…" she managed, before turning, storming from the room, leaving her robe in an untidy heap on the floor.
In the living room, Jack settled back more comfortably on the couch, oblivious to the bedroom door slamming, and the softer sound of a lock clicking into place.
Lack of desire unfortunately went both ways.
It had been a crazy week at work, and Sam had spent long hours in her lab, finding a solution for a problem with the gate dialing program that had cropped up. And then there had been that pesky situation with the natives on P53-2X7. All and all, she was exhausted, and gratefully crawled into bed.
She was just drifting off when the bed sagged. She rolled on her side and Jack settled in behind her, placing a light kiss on her cheek as he gathered her into his arms. She mumbled a sleepy greeting, figuring he was ready for sleep as well.
And then his hands slipped up under her nightgown, finding and beginning to knead her breasts. More kisses landed on her neck, her shoulder, her collarbone. He deliberately pinched her, bringing her unwillingly from the state of relaxation she'd managed.
Irritated, and tired, she pushed his hands away. "Jack," she warned. He paused in his current attack on her earlobe.
"Hmm?" he mumbled hoarsely in her ear.
"Not tonight, I'm tired," she said.
In reply, he pulled her closer, renewing his assault on her breasts. His body molded to hers, and she could feel him trapped against her bottom. He moved his hips insistently against the curves of her body. Obviously, he was hoping his actions would stimulate arousal on her part.
Unfortunately for him, she was too tired to feel anything but annoyed. "Please, Jack, I'm exhausted," she begged, trying unsuccessfully to push his hands away again.
He sighed, his breath tickling her ear, as he idly played with her nipples, ignoring her attempts to dissuade him. He continued to flick, squeeze, and nibble. Her body wasn't much interested however. "I need you," he said softly, ignoring the signals, or lack of them, that he was getting from her body.
When she continued to try and ignore him, one of his hands left her breasts, and began to wander downwards in a lazy fashion. Somewhat determined, he began to try and arouse her in other ways. Rather than stimulating her, the contact was irritating.
"Ja-ack," she complained again, trying to pull away. In response, he tightened his hold, and began to increase his ministrations, desperately attempting to stimulate some kind of response.
"Please?" he whispered, trying, and failing miserably at seduction, but unwilling to give up.
Sighing in exasperation, Sam knew she'd not rest until he got what he wanted.
"Fine," she agreed in defeat, stretching out an arm to locate the tube of lubricant in the nightstand. "But make it fast, I'm tired."
On the less physical side, they often never seemed to see eye to eye on nearly any issue. They might have been too different. Sharing too few interests. Innocuous conversations at times could lead to major disagreements.
"I wanna go somewhere," Sam announced, looking up from her crossword.
Jack turned away from the stove. "Why don't we, we're both on leave," he pointed out.
She tapped her pencil thoughtfully. "Where would we go?"
"Fishing," Jack replied instantly. "The cabin is great this time of year."
"If you like getting eaten alive by mosquitoes," she retorted. "You always want to go fishing."
"What's wrong with fishing?" he asked, defensively dividing the eggs onto two plates. Carrying the plates over to the table, he sat down across from his wife. "If it were up to you, where would you go?"
She looked thoughtful. "I'd take my bike, and go riding in the mountains. No schedule, no destination, I'd go wherever the road takes me, anywhere that looked interesting." Her eyes gleamed.
Jack appeared less than impressed. "You'd sit on your bike, riding it for hours, to god only knows where, rather than take the opportunity to relax on a nice lake, rod in one hand, beer in the other."
"I like my idea," she defended, stabbing at her eggs. He could of at least acted like her idea was interesting.
"If you like saddle sores," he grumbled.
Eyes flashing, Sam pushed her plate away, getting up from the table. "You know what, forget I said anything. I'm going to mow the lawn."
Somehow though, they kept it together. Perhaps it was the make-up sex they had after their often spectacular arguments. Or it may have been the fact that neither of them could see themselves living with anyone else. And as much as their differences were the cause of dispute, they were also a blessing, each possessing traits that the other lacked, pieces to a whole.
They never ended up going anywhere that weekend. She attacked the lawn, and he followed her outside, spending the afternoon cleaning the gutters. They both finished about the same time, and practically bumped into one another as they headed for the bathroom.
She had grass stains on her jeans, and sweat made the tank top she wore cling to her curves. He had dirt smudged on his face, and had long ago pulled off his shirt. They were sweaty, dirty, and he was sure his deodorant had worn off hours ago.
And yet, they couldn't keep their hands off each other.
"I love you," she said, much later, half sprawled across his chest, her legs tangled with his. She was relaxed in his arms, in the aftermath of their lovemaking. Her hair, damp from their mutual shower, lay against his neck, rich with the scent of her shampoo. One hand stroked his chest. He didn't think that he would be able to move for hours. It was fortunate that neither of them had anywhere to be.
He leaned down, placing a kiss on her forehead, his hand tracing her spine. "I love you too," he said.
For now, it was enough.