Title: Stormy Weather
Rating: PG-13
Category: Sam/Jack, Humour, Serious Jack angst :p
Warnings: Bad word, silliness
Summary: There's a reason people talk about the weather. It can cause all sorts of complications.
A/N: Written for matt1969, who I am now supplying fic to instead of chocolate apparently. She wanted to have Jack having to stay at Sam's for some reason. I'm sure this fic will not be what she expected, because it's not what I expected...
He had seen many the cliché movie, soap or tv drama where a woman finally caves into her emotions. She walks to the house of her 'one true love' in the pouring rain, naturally getting soaked along the way, but still manages to look as sexy as hell when she finally gets up the courage to ring the doorbell. The dashing hero then opens the door, and inevitably asks what is she doing here, whilst expressing his concern over how wet and cold she must be as he ushers her into the house. Shortly after this she confesses her undying love for the man, he professes that the feelings are mutual, and there is implied sex.
So when he, Jack O'Neill, opened his front door late one night to a very wet Samantha Carter he did begin to wonder if a similar scene was about to play out. This illusion, however, was shattered by the first words (or even word) out of her mouth.
"Fucking bike skidded off the road – excuse my language, Sir – I must have aquaplaned. The weather is interfering with my cell phone's signal and since your place was only 2 clicks away I walked here. I'm sorry to disturb you Sir but there wasn't even a pay phone between here and there."
It took Jack a moment to absorb all this, "'Course it's fine, Carter. Are you hurt?"
He stood aside and let her step into the house proper, where she stood on his welcome matt dripping quietly.
"Couple of bruises, I was going pretty slow anyway, but the bike wasn't left in what you would call a road worthy condition."
"You sure you shouldn't get checked out?"
"No, I'm fine Sir."
"I'll get you a towel and drive you back," He offered once his brain engaged and he realised that was why Carter was here after all.
She smiled brightly, and for a moment Jack almost wished that she had turned up on his doorstep in the rain to declare her undying love for him. Or at least a slight affection.
Once she was toweled off enough that Jack judged she wouldn't damage the seats of his precious truck, they set off for her place. Stopping to load the bike into the back of the truck on the way, of course.
The storm became increasingly violent as they crossed the city, though it wasn't anything the truck couldn't handle. The odd branch littered the road but the late hour meant that they could easily switch lanes to avoid them.
Pulling into her drive, he told her to get into the house and leave the bike to him. This wasn't because she was a woman and he thought her weak and incapable, it was because she hadn't done a good job of hiding her rapidly swelling wrist when they'd got out to get the bike in the first place. Luckily it was just soft tissue damage as she'd told him.
Since he'd put it as an order, Carter didn't argue with him and told him she'd go round and open the garage. Jack got out and started to drag the bike off the bed of the truck before he remembered that Sam probably knew every scratch on the thing even after the accident and wouldn't be very happy with him if he added a new one. Thus he carefully removed the bike and wheeled it round to the garage door.
"If you could set her down by the workbench, Colonel."
He did as requested and turned to face her to deliver the customary are-you-sure-you're-going-to-be-ok. However he was distracted by an ominous loud creaking from somewhere outside of the garage.
"Sounds like something is about to collapse," He said, concerned that that something might be a part of Carter's house. Or about to collapse onto Carter's house.
He should have really added something else to his list of imminent collapse concerns but somehow it didn't occur to him. Perhaps he thought that kind of thing only happened to other people – even though he normally was that person. Or perhaps he had misjudged the location of the creaking noise, not properly assessed what it could be, or what could be lying in its path should it collapse.
Thus when a tree, with a suitably dramatic crashing sound, collapsed from the neighbour's garden crushing his truck, Jack was more than a little shocked. In fact all he did for nearly a full minute was stare from the opening of the garage at his poor, obliterated vehicle.
"Sir?" Carter's voice managed to penetrate his shock. "Sir, are you ok? Should we go take a closer look?"
He just about managed to nod in response and walked down the left side of his truck. He didn't get very far before the trunk of the tree blocked his path. Carter did a full circle before coming back to where he stood.
"I think you may well be stuck here for tonight, Sir. You're welcome to the guest bedroom. I'm sure we can get the tree shifted tomorrow and the truck, well, it might be salvageable..." She trailed off and stared at him. "Sir, are you crying?"
"No," Said Jack, sighing as he stared at the spot where tree met truck. "It's just the rain."
"Yes Sir" she said, before reaching out with her good arm to pat him on the shoulder. "There there, Sir, there there. She had a good run. Try to think of the good times."
"Carter, are you mocking me?"
"No Sir. Of course not Sir. That would be very insubordinate of me, Sir."
"Damn right."
He sighed again and turned to follow Carter into the house. This is not the reason he would have picked to be staying the night there.
