Title:
The Motorbike Man
Author: Jemma
Story Status:
Complete
Series/Sequel Info: None
Season: Um...early.
One?
Spoilers: None.
Categories: Gen, friendship, maybe humour.
You tell
me!
Pairings: None
Rating: K
Content Warnings:
None
Summary: Jack goes to see Sam in her lab, but what he finds
there is not quite what he expects. All is well though. It leads to
Jack O'Neill getting to know his 2IC a little better.
Archive
Permissions: Please ask.
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the
characters relating to Stargate. They belong to MGM and any of their
associates. I'm just playing around with them for a little
while!
Authors Note: This is my first Gen fic...so any feedback
would be gratefully received!! Damn those plot bunnies.
This one
is little, and giving me a break from my big fic, which is still a
secret, so no one tell anybody about it, OK? Good. ;)
Date:
26/1/2003
SGSGSGSGSGSGSG
I knock on her door for about the fifth time, continuing to hear crashing and banging coming from inside.
"Carter!"
I yell. "You OK?"
I receive no response, but before I
can try again the door is flung open to reveal Sam Carter, covered in
oil, with grease marks all over her face.
"Carter!"
I gasp in shock. "What the hell have you been doing?"
"Sir!
Hi!"
"Yeah, hi. I say again...what?"
"Oh,"
she mumbles, turning to look behind her into the lab.
Over
her shoulder I can see what looks to be the remnants of a motorbike,
and what seems to be a million parts for it all over the floor, the
desk, even hanging off the walls.
She turns back to me and
blushes.
"Yeah," I say whilst nodding at her.
She blushed some more before moving aside and letting me enter the lab, which itself is a difficult enough task. Finding somewhere to stand is challenge two.
"So sir," I hear from behind me accompanied by the sound of the door closing. "What can I do for you?"
I
turn around to face her as she leans against the door.
"Well,
at the moment Carter, it seems to be more like what I can do for
you."
She gets that rare puzzled look on her face.
"What
do you mean sir?"
I grin at her. It seems that there's one
thing the great, incredible, intelligent Captain Samantha Carter
can't do.
"Well...it
seems you're havin'
some problems with your bike here, and it just so happens that, back
in the day, I used to be a bit of a bike man."
My speech ends
quite proudly, and her reaction of bursting into laughter wasn't
quite the one I was looking for.
"What?
It's true!"
My protests only cause her to laugh harder. So
hard her eyes are watering.
"Carter! Quit it! Do you want
help or not?"
She slowly composes herself by taking a few
deep breaths.
"From the motorbike man himself?" she says
innocently. "Of course!"
I look at her slyly, trying to ascertain if she's being serious. Then I remember...Carter is always serious.
SGSGSGSGSGSGSG
Well.
It's
three hours, five
cups of coffee; each, two hammered thumbs, three bleeding fingers and
a lot of laughter later when Carter and I finally finish.
"There
ya go!" I say proudly. "I knew I could do it."
Jab.
"Ow!
Sorry...I knew we could do it!"
"That's better,"
she replied deviously.
We're
standing side by side in her lab. The floor is clear of motorbike
bits, oil, grease or any other hazardous material, which could quite
easily kill someone not paying attention.
And there...in the
middle of the room, propped up on its stand, is Carter's fully
functioning, all its bits in tow, motorbike.
Of
course, the florescent lighting of the lab doesn't do my three
polishes justice, but you can most definitely see the
difference.
"Wow," I hear her breathe next to me.
"I
know. Guess I still have it."
Her
head darts around to face me, before taking in the smug grin on my
face.
We both promptly burst into more fits of laughter.
Yep.
Who'd
have guessed that motorbike restoration could have been quite
so fun again?
"Thank you sir," she says through deep
breaths.
"What for?"
"For helping me today. It
was nice to spend some time, ya know?"
"Yeah, Carter, I
know. But...I ask only one thing."
She tilts her head
inquisitively.
"What's that sir?"
"Don't tell
anyone my nickname."
"Oh, I won't..." she replies
slowly, walking from my side over to the door, pulling it open and
standing under the frame. As she looks back at me I swear I see a
glint of mischievousness in her eyes, and just as she closes the door
behind her, I swear I hear the words "motorbike man," leave
her mouth.
SGSGSGSGSGSGSG
