The first biker was a female, dressed in black leathers, wearing a glitzy helmet with wings of fire embellished on it, sitting lithely atop a mint condition Indian motorcycle.
An eye-catching older man, wearing shades, a dark helmet and a scowl that gave him a mysterious aura, sat behind the blonde in army fatigues and combat boots, his long, muscled arms hooked possessively around her waist.
Next to them sat a dark skinned man with handsome features wearing a light colored leather cowboy hat, burnished, powerful-looking muscles barely covered by a black air force T-shirt, cowboy boots that would make Roy Rogers jealous, and…well, the bike looked like it had been rented from the Salvation Army.
Riding a classic Harley Road King, the fourth member of the tough looking ensemble wore mirrored shades, an army green bandanna tied commando style on his head, and black leather biker gear. His sleeveless arms were muscular and mean looking as he gunned his engine, waiting for the light to change. The thin material he wore on his torso revealed a hint of washboard abs as he sat waiting, tensed for action.
This outfit had seen things that would knock your socks off.
They were lean, mean, fighting machines.
They were too hot to handle.
They were SG1.
The light turned green, and the group revved up and took off, finally making the long-anticipated crossing into the city limits of Sturgis, South Dakota for the Sturgis Motorcycle Rally of 2005.
As they passed the office of the Justice of the Peace, the older man leaned forward and whispered something in the ear of the female biker, starting a very audible argument of:
"We are too!"
"We are not!"
"Please! It's on my list!"
"No way in &#!!"
Et cetera.
The huge warrior of a man told them it would be prudent to cease their discussion and help 'DanielJackson' look for the lodging 'MajorCarter' had arranged.
Like, who talks that way?
After a moment of silence, 'We are not' started up again.
"Uh, Sam, Jack, concentrate here, okay? We're looking for...Deadwood Street. Uh...we need to go east..." Daniel was staring at a handwritten address he'd pulled out of his saddlebag.
"What is the name of the hotel?" Jack asked innocently.
"Actually, Jack, it's not a hotel. It's Janet's second cousin's friend's house. He's out of town and Siler gave us the key."
Jack gave them a totally confused stare.
Daniel and Sam furtively exchanged a guilty glance.
"Something smells fishy here, Carter," Jack growled. "What's the story? I thought you said we were staying in a hotel."
"Well, the only thing left in town is the campground and there's about 2000 people camping in a mob scene out there. And Janet said this was nice."
"Janet said? She's probably never been here. And why did Siler have the key? Hmmmm?"
"Come on," Sam cajoled him as they parked and got off the bike, pushing him towards the door of the modestly sized rancher. "We'll take a real honeymoon when we get back to the Springs."
"You mean after we go back to the Springs, get married properly there, and then go on a real honeymoon."
"Would you two stop already?" Daniel cried. "If I didn't know better I'd say you were already married!"
The four entered Janet's second cousin's friend's house.
"Who is this guy?" O'Neill asked, astonished.
The walls and ceiling of the entryway were covered in pictures of UFO's, TV sci-fi-show stars, covers from Astronomy Magazine, maps of Area 51 and...schematics of Cheyenne Mountain? Intrigued, Carter walked over to that particular document and took a closer look. O'Neill was already in the back room of the small ranch house, opening drawers and sifting through papers strewn on the table tops.
"Maybe we should call the haz-mat team," Daniel suggested lightly, getting a kick out of Jack's amazed expression.
"Colonel O'Neill," Teal'C called from the kitchen.
"What, T?"
"You should see this."
Teal'C was standing in the kitchen looking at a picture of himself outside his briefly occupied apartment in Colorado Springs, working on his truck with his hat off, gold emblem clearly visible. What Jack couldn't see, because Teal'C had quickly turned his back to him, was Teal'C struggling not to smile.
"Okay, this is a practical joke. What's Janet's number?" O'Neill demanded of Sam. She flipped open her cellphone and hit a speed dial number, handing the phone to Jack in the process.
"Janet? Howdy. Yeah, we're at your cousin's or whoever's house you sent us to. What's that? Do I like the décor? Okay Janet, 'fess up. Yes, you do too know what I'm talking about. Do what, you say? Look outside. Uhhh...Okay. This is not funny, by the way. Okay, I'm going to look outside now. Yes, I'll keep you on the line..."
Jack walked back through the foyer and opened the front door.
"Surprise!" chorused about twenty-five voices.
"You get in here right now, Janet," Jack hissed into his cellphone before hanging up on her. Janet stepped out of the crowd at that moment, dressed in formal air force attire, looking beautiful, and waved cheekily at Jack.
Cassie stood there holding a beautifully decorated sheet cake with gold bells and a Stargate on it.
General Hammond was decked out in his dress blues, shoes spit-polished, big goofy smile plastered on his face, holding a handled shopping bag packed full of various wrapped gifts.
The whole crowd pushed their way past Jack and into the oddly decorated dwelling.
"Siler? Walter? Lieutenant. Rush? Jonas!! Bra'tac?!" Jack was overwhelmed as Earthlings and carefully disguised aliens alike streamed past him, all wearing huge grins and carrying various ingredients for what was promising to be a very memorable event.
Jack recognized the next person to walk in the door with a shout of astonishment.
"Marty!?"
"Hi, Jack. Sam called me. She wanted me to be the photographer, but I don't really do stills, because I'm actually a cimematographer myself, so I told her that, just this once, as a special favor to you and...."
"Great to see you again, Marty," Jack cut him off, turning and heading back for the kitchen.
"SAM!!" he roared as he blustered his way back through the crowd to confront her.
Jack found her holding court in the kitchen surrounded by adoring friends and co-workers. She walked up to him as he blew into the kitchen, beginning to look unsure of herself when she saw the stormy expression on his face had not changed.
An unbearably long, tense, charged moment crackled electrically between them as they stood toe to toe, staring at each other.
Then...
As suddenly as lightning striking, Jack grabbed her around the waist and swung her around, ending his attack with a steamy kiss that threatened to melt a hole right through the kitchen floor.
The room erupted in wolf whistles and raucous applause.
"So," he whispered for her ears only, "Do I get a say in any of this?"
"Sure, Jack. Do you want to go down to the Justice of the Peace on the bike or in a car?"
"All I can say is, now I get to pick where we go for our honeymoon."
"And where would that be?"
"Canoe trip in Minnesota."
Thirty minutes later, an interesting entourage was winding their way down the main street of Sturgis, South Dakota, attracting stares from an audience of Rally attenders who were quite stare-worthy in their own right.
There were three bikes leading the procession.
On a vintage Indian, a blonde in a short, filmy white dress wearing a white, flowery headpiece was seated in front of a devilishly handsome older man, wearing shades, a dark helmet, and a scowl that gave him a mysterous aura.
Next to them sat a good looking dark skinned man wearing a light colored leather cowboy hat, his burnished, powerful-looking muscles barely covered by a black sleeveless air force T-shirt, cowboy boots that would make Roy Rogers jealous, and…well, the bike was running, at least.
Riding his classic Harley Road King, the fourth member of the tough looking ensemble wore mirrored shades, an army green bandanna tied commando style on his head, and black leather biker gear. His sleeveless arms were muscular and mean looking as he gunned his engine, waiting for the light to change. The thin material he wore on his torso revealed a hint of washboard abs as he sat there, grinning, poised for action.
This outfit had seen things that would knock your socks off.
They were lean, mean, fighting machines.
They were too hot to handle.
They were SG1.
Author's notes: Thanks to all of you who reviewed the first part of this flight of fancy. Just knowing you are out there loving Stargate the way I do makes my day! I couldn't resist having a little more fun with the Sturgis theme. The bottom line is the same- Sam and Jack are MTBT (Meant To Be Together)! I saw the new 'lowdown' for the first time this past Friday and my romantic heart dares to hope again that maybe, just maybe, oh please, please, TPTB....