Digging for an old boot and throwing out the new.
PART THREE (Disclaimer in first part)
------------------------------------------------------------
Author's notes:
Finally.
Sorry; it's not beta'd, My beta's away, and I don't want to re-enact the last time I asked for a quick beta online. People are so helpful. Not ;)~~~~~Never the time to bitch, Athena
-----------
One Samantha Carter, crashed her forehead against the hardwood of the work surface in her lab, as she cringed a putrid yellowy-green inside,
Damn the world for creating the hangover....
But in a reality that she'd sooner ignore, it was her dainty little hand that picked up the drink, and then tossed it down her throat. *That* she couldn't ignore, but it just wasn't like her. In all of her 35 years she'd never been one to reach for the bottle like others she knew, a certain Colonel flashed precisely in her mind, and she almost wretched at the vivid recollection that something Stupid had happened last night.
She remembered Pete, a topic she'd preferably want rub from her memory right now. Their argument was abysmal. Shouting hollering. Presuming Just About every bad thing that could be said had been said, and she knew one ting. It wasn't working, none of it. Had t all been a façade? She didn't want to believe it, but maybe the drunkenness was her wake up call, if she could believe it. And then there was the drunkenness again...the feeling of being very, very intoxicated and warmly oblivious and openly comfortable near The Col- Oh Damn it.
Damn the world for creating the hangover...
The Colonel.
A Situation.
A dress.
A kiss?
Where is the coffee?
"Commissary." She grunted like some low level primate of the past. "Coffee."
---------------
When she finally arrived at the commissary, she felt the need to turn her and swing-step and her tray right back where she came from when she found Jack alone, with a pink spoon in his hand, staring at a plate of Pasta. But this was stupid, he would understand, right? Surely in his 4-something years he'd experienced his own levels of intoxication, some of them more work related than recreational, but maybe, just maybe he'd understand?
Sucking in a deep breath, she made her way over to the table, placing her tray opposite his.
" Pasta? For breakfast?" She queried.
"Uh-huh." He grunted reassuringly.
"Any particular reason for pasta at this time in the morning?"
"No Jell-O."
She immediately smiled at the welcoming boyish image painted on his face, making him either very interested or scared of the pasta. Or worse, of her...
She dug into her muffin, breaking it in two, and tried to not look like she'd felt inside, minus the hangover.
"So, I'm sorry about yesterday."
"Oh, how are you by the way?" He motioned to her forehead with his spoon.
"The head? Hurts."
"Did you clear things up with what's-his-name?"
She became deadly quiet, what was she supposed to say?
"Oh, we broke up."
That was what she was supposed to say...
His eyes immediately flickered, the browns darkening instantly. He pursed his lips, letting out a sigh.
"Oh. I'm sorry."
"Yea. Me too." Her eyes flashed away from his, her necking feeling increasingly heavy. "Look, Colonel."
"Yea?"
"Can, speak to later, in private?"
She didn't even have to motion to the people around her. He knew what she meant, and nodded quickly. And in some kind of peaceful acknowledgment, it soothed her not to have the whole rigor of explaining things to him. And it helped in the times when he wasn't playing dumb. "Top o' the mountain? Six?"
"It's a date." She confirmed. Was that a little presumptuous?
Her speech faltered immediately, and she stood up. "Not a date, date. Okay, I have to go, stick my head down a toilet." She picked up her tray, pushing in her chair. "Enjoy...the spaghetti."
"Thanks. Have a good one."
Again, and with much emphasis, Damn the world for creating the hangover....
--------------------------------
Sam looked at her watch. Eighteen Hundred hours, and 13 seconds.
Where was he? It definitely wasn't like the Colonel to be late.
"Gee, Carter, did you have to pick the top of damn mountain?"
"Sorry." She laughed at his half attempt to get to the rock she was sat, on. "I guess I'm definitely over the hill now."
"Oh I would say that. Near to it maybe." She raised an eyebrow as he sat down beside her, and he couldn't help but frown.
"So. What did you wanna talk about?"
"Us."
"Oh."
She shuffled at his discomfort just because she'd brought it up.
"Look, I'm sorry about last night. You know, I wouldn't have done that usually. I wasn't given the nickname 'Work obsessed frigid bitch' for no reason,"
He chuckled quiet at the recollection of the name that Siler had made famous to the identity of Sam Carter.
She continued, making sure that he was listening, he had a habit of blocking her out at times...
"But, what I said, all of it, was true. I tried to get on with my life, forgetting the past, and the situations, that we've dealt with; but it's so hard. And I feel like it's easy for you. I don't' know what you're thinking, ever, and that's very hard for me. But there's something going on, on my side anyway. I randomly took a chance, and ever since, I've been digging for old boot, and throwing out the new one. Do you get me?"
He tightened his lips, as the corners turned slightly "Uh...something to do with boots?"
Although annoyed at his aversion of the question at point in hand, she couldn't help but smile.
"You know what they say about the man with big boots?"
"No..."
"The man who have big boots, have even bigger feet, and the man who have big feet..."
"Have great life with blonde babe in small bikini?"
"Something like that." Her tone lowered, and her smile lessened. "So are you going to sidestep everything to do with 'us'?"
She fidgeted, and couldn't quite make her gaze. She needed to believe that she wasn't the only and going crazy at the same time. His eyes where almost pearlescent, and in hem she saw the view that they had yet to look at. It seemed to her that every cheesy-ass moment had a view, or something ornate to look at. She supposed that, that was just the cliché of life. Hell, she was sat next to one honkin' big cliché right now...
Turning his head away from her, he began to speak. "Look at that..." he whispered, pointing to the right of him. Her eyes immediately searched the sky next him. Not quite seeing what he'd indicated, she leant behind him narrowing her eyes. He always had a simpler way of looking at things.
"What are loo-"
So.
That was what he was 'looking' at.
What a cheesy way to kiss her.
But god, the way his hand fitted underneath the back of her hair smoothing at its unconditioned roughness, it sure felt good.
"I as waiting for you to get sober before I did that." He mumbled; his face was inches away from hers.
"Damn you Jack O'Neill." She rested her forehead against his, before breaking apart and taking in the view, finally. "Well, It really is beautiful up here."
"Yep. But if you take out the woman, it's a little boring. For an old shoe I mean."
She smiled again. And maybe she'd be doing a lot of that from now on. She didn't know, and she didn't care about anything right now. Which was a very displaced reaction for her to have. Maybe she brought a little more of that out of him.
Oddly, as she looked at him watch her, she couldn't help but be annoyed at how easy everything had been. It you don't' count the fist seven years of Angst, and depression, and complication, hope, destroyed circumstance and drama.
But they don't matter really...at least she knew the boot fit. Finally.
--------------------------
Saturday Morning.
And a loud knock came at the door from two men, sort of.
A certain frowning Daniel Jackson, and smirking Teal'c, who's company had come at the door of Samantha Carter's very suddenly indeed, following an over-heard comment in the infirmary of all places.
The door opened, along with no 'door opener' a plethora of noise and stifled giggling from behind it.
"What the?" Daniel mumbled, waiting for who ever it was to fully reveal themselves.
"Oh My..." Now wishing they hadn't,
"Hey Danny. Teal'c." Jack opened the door, a towel slung round his waist and his short evidently drenched against his forehead. "What do ya want, I'm kind of workin' on a time frame here..."
Looking rather too sheepish for his own good, Daniel Started to speak, but stopped as soon as a loud voice shouted from behind the door.
"Jack O'Neill! I'm covered in sauce, damn you! GOD, it's SO cold." The feminine voice yelped.
Jack was, by now, getting extremely anxious in front of them-Time to make a swift exit. "Guys. I gotta go."
"O'Neill, are you engaging in sexual practise with Major Carter?" Teal'c asked in his plainest voice. He knew how to embarrass well.
"Umm. You could say that..."
"I wouldn't..."
"Danny, Teal'c, Carter's not here. Bye."
The door shut immediately, and the two men turned around toward their car. "Jack looks good for his age."
"I agree."
"How old is he?"
"I'm currently unaware Daniel Jackson."
"Figures..."
-------------------
Ah....the old boot.
--------------------
Feedback? Hell yea. Pwease?
Sorry to all who thought it as short, I feel like there's something missing, but I can't put my finger on it, s if you know then email me.
Athena
PART THREE (Disclaimer in first part)
------------------------------------------------------------
Author's notes:
Finally.
Sorry; it's not beta'd, My beta's away, and I don't want to re-enact the last time I asked for a quick beta online. People are so helpful. Not ;)~~~~~Never the time to bitch, Athena
-----------
One Samantha Carter, crashed her forehead against the hardwood of the work surface in her lab, as she cringed a putrid yellowy-green inside,
Damn the world for creating the hangover....
But in a reality that she'd sooner ignore, it was her dainty little hand that picked up the drink, and then tossed it down her throat. *That* she couldn't ignore, but it just wasn't like her. In all of her 35 years she'd never been one to reach for the bottle like others she knew, a certain Colonel flashed precisely in her mind, and she almost wretched at the vivid recollection that something Stupid had happened last night.
She remembered Pete, a topic she'd preferably want rub from her memory right now. Their argument was abysmal. Shouting hollering. Presuming Just About every bad thing that could be said had been said, and she knew one ting. It wasn't working, none of it. Had t all been a façade? She didn't want to believe it, but maybe the drunkenness was her wake up call, if she could believe it. And then there was the drunkenness again...the feeling of being very, very intoxicated and warmly oblivious and openly comfortable near The Col- Oh Damn it.
Damn the world for creating the hangover...
The Colonel.
A Situation.
A dress.
A kiss?
Where is the coffee?
"Commissary." She grunted like some low level primate of the past. "Coffee."
---------------
When she finally arrived at the commissary, she felt the need to turn her and swing-step and her tray right back where she came from when she found Jack alone, with a pink spoon in his hand, staring at a plate of Pasta. But this was stupid, he would understand, right? Surely in his 4-something years he'd experienced his own levels of intoxication, some of them more work related than recreational, but maybe, just maybe he'd understand?
Sucking in a deep breath, she made her way over to the table, placing her tray opposite his.
" Pasta? For breakfast?" She queried.
"Uh-huh." He grunted reassuringly.
"Any particular reason for pasta at this time in the morning?"
"No Jell-O."
She immediately smiled at the welcoming boyish image painted on his face, making him either very interested or scared of the pasta. Or worse, of her...
She dug into her muffin, breaking it in two, and tried to not look like she'd felt inside, minus the hangover.
"So, I'm sorry about yesterday."
"Oh, how are you by the way?" He motioned to her forehead with his spoon.
"The head? Hurts."
"Did you clear things up with what's-his-name?"
She became deadly quiet, what was she supposed to say?
"Oh, we broke up."
That was what she was supposed to say...
His eyes immediately flickered, the browns darkening instantly. He pursed his lips, letting out a sigh.
"Oh. I'm sorry."
"Yea. Me too." Her eyes flashed away from his, her necking feeling increasingly heavy. "Look, Colonel."
"Yea?"
"Can, speak to later, in private?"
She didn't even have to motion to the people around her. He knew what she meant, and nodded quickly. And in some kind of peaceful acknowledgment, it soothed her not to have the whole rigor of explaining things to him. And it helped in the times when he wasn't playing dumb. "Top o' the mountain? Six?"
"It's a date." She confirmed. Was that a little presumptuous?
Her speech faltered immediately, and she stood up. "Not a date, date. Okay, I have to go, stick my head down a toilet." She picked up her tray, pushing in her chair. "Enjoy...the spaghetti."
"Thanks. Have a good one."
Again, and with much emphasis, Damn the world for creating the hangover....
--------------------------------
Sam looked at her watch. Eighteen Hundred hours, and 13 seconds.
Where was he? It definitely wasn't like the Colonel to be late.
"Gee, Carter, did you have to pick the top of damn mountain?"
"Sorry." She laughed at his half attempt to get to the rock she was sat, on. "I guess I'm definitely over the hill now."
"Oh I would say that. Near to it maybe." She raised an eyebrow as he sat down beside her, and he couldn't help but frown.
"So. What did you wanna talk about?"
"Us."
"Oh."
She shuffled at his discomfort just because she'd brought it up.
"Look, I'm sorry about last night. You know, I wouldn't have done that usually. I wasn't given the nickname 'Work obsessed frigid bitch' for no reason,"
He chuckled quiet at the recollection of the name that Siler had made famous to the identity of Sam Carter.
She continued, making sure that he was listening, he had a habit of blocking her out at times...
"But, what I said, all of it, was true. I tried to get on with my life, forgetting the past, and the situations, that we've dealt with; but it's so hard. And I feel like it's easy for you. I don't' know what you're thinking, ever, and that's very hard for me. But there's something going on, on my side anyway. I randomly took a chance, and ever since, I've been digging for old boot, and throwing out the new one. Do you get me?"
He tightened his lips, as the corners turned slightly "Uh...something to do with boots?"
Although annoyed at his aversion of the question at point in hand, she couldn't help but smile.
"You know what they say about the man with big boots?"
"No..."
"The man who have big boots, have even bigger feet, and the man who have big feet..."
"Have great life with blonde babe in small bikini?"
"Something like that." Her tone lowered, and her smile lessened. "So are you going to sidestep everything to do with 'us'?"
She fidgeted, and couldn't quite make her gaze. She needed to believe that she wasn't the only and going crazy at the same time. His eyes where almost pearlescent, and in hem she saw the view that they had yet to look at. It seemed to her that every cheesy-ass moment had a view, or something ornate to look at. She supposed that, that was just the cliché of life. Hell, she was sat next to one honkin' big cliché right now...
Turning his head away from her, he began to speak. "Look at that..." he whispered, pointing to the right of him. Her eyes immediately searched the sky next him. Not quite seeing what he'd indicated, she leant behind him narrowing her eyes. He always had a simpler way of looking at things.
"What are loo-"
So.
That was what he was 'looking' at.
What a cheesy way to kiss her.
But god, the way his hand fitted underneath the back of her hair smoothing at its unconditioned roughness, it sure felt good.
"I as waiting for you to get sober before I did that." He mumbled; his face was inches away from hers.
"Damn you Jack O'Neill." She rested her forehead against his, before breaking apart and taking in the view, finally. "Well, It really is beautiful up here."
"Yep. But if you take out the woman, it's a little boring. For an old shoe I mean."
She smiled again. And maybe she'd be doing a lot of that from now on. She didn't know, and she didn't care about anything right now. Which was a very displaced reaction for her to have. Maybe she brought a little more of that out of him.
Oddly, as she looked at him watch her, she couldn't help but be annoyed at how easy everything had been. It you don't' count the fist seven years of Angst, and depression, and complication, hope, destroyed circumstance and drama.
But they don't matter really...at least she knew the boot fit. Finally.
--------------------------
Saturday Morning.
And a loud knock came at the door from two men, sort of.
A certain frowning Daniel Jackson, and smirking Teal'c, who's company had come at the door of Samantha Carter's very suddenly indeed, following an over-heard comment in the infirmary of all places.
The door opened, along with no 'door opener' a plethora of noise and stifled giggling from behind it.
"What the?" Daniel mumbled, waiting for who ever it was to fully reveal themselves.
"Oh My..." Now wishing they hadn't,
"Hey Danny. Teal'c." Jack opened the door, a towel slung round his waist and his short evidently drenched against his forehead. "What do ya want, I'm kind of workin' on a time frame here..."
Looking rather too sheepish for his own good, Daniel Started to speak, but stopped as soon as a loud voice shouted from behind the door.
"Jack O'Neill! I'm covered in sauce, damn you! GOD, it's SO cold." The feminine voice yelped.
Jack was, by now, getting extremely anxious in front of them-Time to make a swift exit. "Guys. I gotta go."
"O'Neill, are you engaging in sexual practise with Major Carter?" Teal'c asked in his plainest voice. He knew how to embarrass well.
"Umm. You could say that..."
"I wouldn't..."
"Danny, Teal'c, Carter's not here. Bye."
The door shut immediately, and the two men turned around toward their car. "Jack looks good for his age."
"I agree."
"How old is he?"
"I'm currently unaware Daniel Jackson."
"Figures..."
-------------------
Ah....the old boot.
--------------------
Feedback? Hell yea. Pwease?
Sorry to all who thought it as short, I feel like there's something missing, but I can't put my finger on it, s if you know then email me.
Athena