"Oh would you sit the hell down and let me help you?"
Sam was frustrated, and even though she didn't raise her voice, her annoyance came through in her choice of words. Jack cocked an eyebrow, the same way he did when someone said "no sir" to an order in the field. Sam blanched slightly.
"I'm perfectly capable of getting my own food from the kitchen, Carter." he said kindly, but his face still had a challenge written on it.
Sam sighed deeply. It was so typical of her CO: She came over to help him out because he was sick, and when she came, he wouldn't let her help.
"I know that, sir," she smiled her sweetest smile, "now sit down and let me do it."
He wasn't sure but he could have sworn he heard a "you come over to help and all you get is nonsense" mumbled under Sam's breath. But he let it go.
General O'Neill was military through and through, but he wasn't the kind of person who expected to be the boss everywhere because he was the boss at work. To be honest, with a congested nose, swollen sinuses, and body aches, having someone get the food from the kitchen for him for him was a big load off his virus riddled system. Sam left the room and came back with his ready-made pizza, a beer, and cutlery, neatly arranged on a tray. She placed it in front of him, and took her seat a few inches away from him on the couch. Jack set to work slicing up the pizza and eating his lunch.
"This is delicious, Carter," he grunted between bites, "thanks."
Carter's eyes rolled up to the ceiling.
"I took it from a pack and microwaved it. I have nothing to do with the flavor of that meal whatsoever."
Jack gave her a poignant look.
"I'm trying to thank you for being nice to me, would you take it and not be such a brat?"
Resisting the urge to bicker further, she decided to have pity on her miserably sick CO, and instead of mouthing off she smiled at him gently.
"Of course I will. And you're welcome, sir."
Jack took a sip of his beer and reclined slightly, eating was a sport with pauses when one was in the middle of a bad flu. He grinned a little to himself. He liked this, hanging out with Carter without all the work stuff getting in the way. He glanced at her where she sat next to him on the couch, in torn jeans and a blue NYC sweatshirt, her hair was a little disheveled. She was a mess.
She looked gorgeous.
She was like a fresh, fragrant epiphany sitting on his couch. He wanted to just tip up her chin a little, move in, and…. He shook his head with force, as if to shake the thoughts out of his brain with violence, and Sam's eyes were torn away from the television.
"A penny for your thoughts?" his Second didn't miss a beat, she never did.
Sam looked at him intently, and he groaned inwardly.
"Oh Carter, he thought to himself, neither of us can afford my thoughts."