Title: Chewing the rag
- Might someday be part of [oVo] the living, together series [oVo]
(shout if you want more..!)
Author: Villemo (villemo112@hotmail.com)
Disclaimer: They're not mine *sniff* :o
Summary: "He calls her Carter when they argue; which pisses her off to no end." [Sam & Jack ] – A little silly, short & sweet :)
AN: Learned a new expression some time ago… thought I'd share ; )
To chew the rag = to be cantankerous/argumentative, to make incessant complaints, to be captious.
~~oVo~~ ~~oVo~~ ~~oVo~~ ~~oVo~~
[chewing the rag]
He calls her Carter when they argue,
which pisses her off to no end.
Although they're not 'arguing',
they're 'having a discussion'.
Or so she says,
because she doesn't 'do' arguing.
She 'confers' with her fellow scientists
She 'talks things over' with Cassandra.
She 'respectfully disagrees' with her CO.
But she doesn't 'argue'.
She refuses to 'argue'.
She'll have to learn though,
because she damn well better 'argue' with him.
…
She glares at him
and he glares right back.
And what is it this time?
something of 'importance' is it,
that they're talking-not-so-calmly-about?
Of course not.
It's a trifle, a little inconsequential thing.
"So what happened?"
He knows he's to blame,
he's used to her taking orders.
"You tell me."
"How can I. *I* didn't do anything!"
And she's to blame
for the same reason; it's pure spite;
and she knows it too.
But no one says,
so it goes nowhere
for now
"So."
"So?"
Stalemate.
Her arms cross,
her cheek lifts in defiance…
He sighs,
and immediately regrets the 'sign of weakness'
but then not so much,
as her expression softens, somewhat.
"Look, Carter-"
The softness evaporates.
He really can't help himself, can he?
"Sam"
he tries again,
a little too late.
Her lips purse,
and her eyes narrow…
before she stalks into the kitchen,
before he 'strolls' after her,
which he knows only serves to infuriate her. more.
And there it is
the object of their- 'exchange of words'
It's on the floor,
it's broken,
it's not a bloody antique
for crying out loud...
"Sam" he starts
"Colonel" she counters,
Because she thinks it annoys him,
- it really doesn't…
She picks 'the thing' up,
its pieces.
They retaliate,
and cut her hand.
"Damn!"
she swears,
and leaves him
wondering why she almost never did that
under his command.
The assaulted finger slips into her mouth,
and, as it soaks up the blood that would have reached the floor,
she glares at him,
like it's his fault, somehow.
He fetches paper from the kitchen counter,
- shoves it towards her,
as an offering of peace;
she hesitates,
but receives.
He takes another step.
"Let me have a look at it" he says,
eyes concerned, but voice even.
You gotta take it one step at the time.
She frowns at him,
but yields.
She gives,
her hand,
in their suspicious walk towards the goal.
Which he by now really hopes is peace, quiet and resolve…
He takes and turns it - her hand.
"It's not too bad. You'll live"
a grin is born.
"Well I knew *that*"
the retorts, the anger torn,
still cross,
and whatnot…
– But whatnot really.
Because this is what they do;
they go back and forth,
'til one of them sees reason
'til someone gains perspective,
as things gain and loose importance,
'til they finally get tired;
of 'chewing that rag'.
She calls him 'Colonel' when they argue;
which really doesn't bother him at all;
...he's not going to tell her that, though…
~~oVo~~ ~~oVo~~ ~~oVo~~ ~~oVo~~
"I'm walking the line here, kick me if it gets too poetic"
Feedback is adored!
(c) Villemo 2004