Here it is folks, the sequel to the widely acclaimed "Turn the Heat Up"
A/N: Sorry it took so long to write, but I had all these other ideas for stories that I kind of pushed this into the back of my mind.
DISCLAIMER: I don't own Stargate. I wish I did. If I was related to Peter DeLuise, and could inherit Stargate's rights from him, I'd kill him an instant. *cops show up to put me in jail* But since I'm not, there's no point in killing him. Hehe *yells 'just kidding!' to the cops*
*~*~*
~Turn The Heat Down!~
"Argh! If it's not one thing it's the other!" Sam threw her hands up in exasperation, sitting down in her sticky desk chair again.
She was stripped down to a very revealing tank top and running shorts that clung to her very curve. Her perfectly smooth legs stretched out in front of her, and she ran her hands through her hair. Reaching for the ice cold cup of lemonade she had on her desk, she sighed.
The air conditioner was out, and for some unknown reason, the heat had been cranked up all the way.
"I'm sick of this!" She jumped from her chair and strode angrily down her hallway to the office that she had grown quite fond of visiting.
Jack looked up as a figure stepped in his doorway. He had been playing with his yo-yo, but the treasured toy idly lay forgotten on the floor as looked Sam up and down approvingly.
"Sir, this has gone to far. I'm going down to General Hammond's office to give him a piece of my mind. I just KNOW that he messes with the climate controls, even after I asked him to stop. Especially after his last mess up, where we all nearly froze to death! Will you come with me so that way, in case I'm too close to getting court-marshaled, you can warn me?" she looked pleadingly into his eyes.
Jack couldn't resist her puppy dog face.
"Sure, Carter. . ."
"Oh, thank you, sir . . ."
"You didn't let me finish, Carter."
"Sorry, sir."
"I'll go with you, but you have to promise me something."
Sam looked warily at her conniving CO. "What, sir?" She thought it would be something like to stop calling him 'sir' or to kiss him (she could only hope it was that!).
"You have to promise to wear that outfit again sometime," as if for emphasis on his point, Jack looked her up and down again.
Sam looked down at what she was wearing, suddenly becoming very self-conscious. She blushed.
"Umm. . . never mind, sir. I think I can handle this on my own," she rushed out of his office before any further comment could be made.
Jack laughed and sighed at the same time. He bent down to retrieve the fallen yo-yo, winding up the string as he thought. An idea struck him, and he smiled. Leaving his favorite toy in his desk drawer, securely locked, Jack left his office for the commissary, visions of Carter wearing her tank top outfit dancing through his head.
*~*~*
Sam walked into the commissary, weary from her fruitless argument with General Hammond. She stopped short, and laughed out loud at the sight she saw.
There, at the table in the corner designated 'SG-1's', was the Colonel standing in front of the hugest ice cream sundae Sam had ever seen. Somehow, Jack could always make her laugh, and now was no exception.
"Sir, what are you doing?!" She said as she strode over to 'their' table.
"Eating ice cream, Carter. What does it look like?" with that said, he picked up a spoon and dug into the delectable dessert.
"Sir, aren't you going to ask me to sit down?" she looked curiously at her normally flattering CO.
"Why, Carter?" his licked his spoon, clearing it of any ice cream residue. "You can sit down yourself."
Humph, Sam thought. I wonder what his problem is.
"So, sir, what have you been doing?" she took the spoon Jack offered with a grin as she sat down in the chair across from him.
"Making an ice cream sundae for a certain woman in my life," Jack looked at her over the mound of whipped cream.
"Really? I better leave before she comes and gets jealous," Sam scooped a bit of ice cream on her spoon, making no move to leave.
"Nah, you can stay, Carter. Seems that the woman I was expecting can't make it because she's trying to get the climate changed."
"Oh. Well, have you heard the latest on her progress?"
"Haven't asked her yet. So, Carter, how'd the little chat with George go?"
Sam grimaced at the mention of her earlier conversation. She stole the cherry off the top of the sundae, catching an amused glare from Jack. She swallowed it with a laugh.
"I wish you had been there with me, sir."
"Why? Something funny happen?" Jack gulped down a large mouthful of whipped cream.
"Not exactly, sir," she caught his concerned glance over the frozen treat. "No, I'm not being court-marshaled, sir."
Jack let out the breath he had been holding.
"I all but told the General to go skydiving out of AK-57, sir! Although I don't think he heard me because he was still in shock from the fact that I was wearing shorts and a tank top," Sam laughed at the recollection.
"Did you get him to turn the heat down, and the air conditioning on?" Jack asked the question she knew he was going to ask next.
"Unfortunately not, sir. There was nothing he could do about it. I was correct about him messing with controls. He broke the air conditioning, and the repair guy can't get to it till Tuesday. And about the heat, remember when he wouldn't turn the heat on, and how we FINALLY convinced him to turn the heat on, well, he turned the heat up SO much that he broke the controls! And the repair guy for the heating can't come till THURSDAY!" Sam ran her hands through her hair, frustrated at the ignorance of men.
"Relax, Carter. Enjoy some ice cream!"
"I can't, sir."
Jack looked up surprised. "And why not?"
"We finished it all, sir," she gestured to the empty dish that lay between the two of them.
"Oh," Jack stood up.
"Where are you going, sir? To get more ice cream?"
"Nope," he exited the commissary, Sam hot on his heels.
"Then where,sir?"
"To either get court-marshaled. . ."
"WHAT! Oh, sorry for interrupting, sir."
". . . or to get the heat turned down!"
*~*~*
Sorry it took so long to get finished. But like I said, all these new ideas kept popping up, and I forced this into the back of my mind. It turned out different than I had intended it to, but my stories kind of write themselves. ; )
A/N: Sorry it took so long to write, but I had all these other ideas for stories that I kind of pushed this into the back of my mind.
DISCLAIMER: I don't own Stargate. I wish I did. If I was related to Peter DeLuise, and could inherit Stargate's rights from him, I'd kill him an instant. *cops show up to put me in jail* But since I'm not, there's no point in killing him. Hehe *yells 'just kidding!' to the cops*
*~*~*
~Turn The Heat Down!~
"Argh! If it's not one thing it's the other!" Sam threw her hands up in exasperation, sitting down in her sticky desk chair again.
She was stripped down to a very revealing tank top and running shorts that clung to her very curve. Her perfectly smooth legs stretched out in front of her, and she ran her hands through her hair. Reaching for the ice cold cup of lemonade she had on her desk, she sighed.
The air conditioner was out, and for some unknown reason, the heat had been cranked up all the way.
"I'm sick of this!" She jumped from her chair and strode angrily down her hallway to the office that she had grown quite fond of visiting.
Jack looked up as a figure stepped in his doorway. He had been playing with his yo-yo, but the treasured toy idly lay forgotten on the floor as looked Sam up and down approvingly.
"Sir, this has gone to far. I'm going down to General Hammond's office to give him a piece of my mind. I just KNOW that he messes with the climate controls, even after I asked him to stop. Especially after his last mess up, where we all nearly froze to death! Will you come with me so that way, in case I'm too close to getting court-marshaled, you can warn me?" she looked pleadingly into his eyes.
Jack couldn't resist her puppy dog face.
"Sure, Carter. . ."
"Oh, thank you, sir . . ."
"You didn't let me finish, Carter."
"Sorry, sir."
"I'll go with you, but you have to promise me something."
Sam looked warily at her conniving CO. "What, sir?" She thought it would be something like to stop calling him 'sir' or to kiss him (she could only hope it was that!).
"You have to promise to wear that outfit again sometime," as if for emphasis on his point, Jack looked her up and down again.
Sam looked down at what she was wearing, suddenly becoming very self-conscious. She blushed.
"Umm. . . never mind, sir. I think I can handle this on my own," she rushed out of his office before any further comment could be made.
Jack laughed and sighed at the same time. He bent down to retrieve the fallen yo-yo, winding up the string as he thought. An idea struck him, and he smiled. Leaving his favorite toy in his desk drawer, securely locked, Jack left his office for the commissary, visions of Carter wearing her tank top outfit dancing through his head.
*~*~*
Sam walked into the commissary, weary from her fruitless argument with General Hammond. She stopped short, and laughed out loud at the sight she saw.
There, at the table in the corner designated 'SG-1's', was the Colonel standing in front of the hugest ice cream sundae Sam had ever seen. Somehow, Jack could always make her laugh, and now was no exception.
"Sir, what are you doing?!" She said as she strode over to 'their' table.
"Eating ice cream, Carter. What does it look like?" with that said, he picked up a spoon and dug into the delectable dessert.
"Sir, aren't you going to ask me to sit down?" she looked curiously at her normally flattering CO.
"Why, Carter?" his licked his spoon, clearing it of any ice cream residue. "You can sit down yourself."
Humph, Sam thought. I wonder what his problem is.
"So, sir, what have you been doing?" she took the spoon Jack offered with a grin as she sat down in the chair across from him.
"Making an ice cream sundae for a certain woman in my life," Jack looked at her over the mound of whipped cream.
"Really? I better leave before she comes and gets jealous," Sam scooped a bit of ice cream on her spoon, making no move to leave.
"Nah, you can stay, Carter. Seems that the woman I was expecting can't make it because she's trying to get the climate changed."
"Oh. Well, have you heard the latest on her progress?"
"Haven't asked her yet. So, Carter, how'd the little chat with George go?"
Sam grimaced at the mention of her earlier conversation. She stole the cherry off the top of the sundae, catching an amused glare from Jack. She swallowed it with a laugh.
"I wish you had been there with me, sir."
"Why? Something funny happen?" Jack gulped down a large mouthful of whipped cream.
"Not exactly, sir," she caught his concerned glance over the frozen treat. "No, I'm not being court-marshaled, sir."
Jack let out the breath he had been holding.
"I all but told the General to go skydiving out of AK-57, sir! Although I don't think he heard me because he was still in shock from the fact that I was wearing shorts and a tank top," Sam laughed at the recollection.
"Did you get him to turn the heat down, and the air conditioning on?" Jack asked the question she knew he was going to ask next.
"Unfortunately not, sir. There was nothing he could do about it. I was correct about him messing with controls. He broke the air conditioning, and the repair guy can't get to it till Tuesday. And about the heat, remember when he wouldn't turn the heat on, and how we FINALLY convinced him to turn the heat on, well, he turned the heat up SO much that he broke the controls! And the repair guy for the heating can't come till THURSDAY!" Sam ran her hands through her hair, frustrated at the ignorance of men.
"Relax, Carter. Enjoy some ice cream!"
"I can't, sir."
Jack looked up surprised. "And why not?"
"We finished it all, sir," she gestured to the empty dish that lay between the two of them.
"Oh," Jack stood up.
"Where are you going, sir? To get more ice cream?"
"Nope," he exited the commissary, Sam hot on his heels.
"Then where,sir?"
"To either get court-marshaled. . ."
"WHAT! Oh, sorry for interrupting, sir."
". . . or to get the heat turned down!"
*~*~*
Sorry it took so long to get finished. But like I said, all these new ideas kept popping up, and I forced this into the back of my mind. It turned out different than I had intended it to, but my stories kind of write themselves. ; )