Title: Wish List

Disclaimer: It all belongs to Showtime/Viacom, MGM/UA, Double Secret Productions, and Gekko Productions.

Pairing: S/J

Rating: PG13

Season: Eight

Summary: Jack's bored… and thinking about Carter.

AN: If you ask me where this came from... I'd say from watching too much tv, having too little sleep and havin a horrible sense of humour that's more than likely seeped ina little insanity. So, you shouldn't ask, really.


Jack rapped his fingers on his desk, leaning his head down to get a better view of how they contacted with the polished surface of his shiny desk. He was out of his tree bored and his yoyo had mysteriously disappeared. His eyes twitched from his right hand to his left as its fingers joined his right hand and he began to tap a tune out. As his head caught up with his hands, he was pleasantly surprised to find himself tapping and humming to the theme tune of 'The Simpsons'. As the volume of his humming grew, his fingers dove into the air and waggled to the beat he was creating. Jack nestled back into the confines of his seat, waving his hands about in front of him.

"Uh… Sir?"

Ah, Crap!

Jack's entire body flinched and his hands hung suspended in the air - a masterful reminder that he really must be crazy. And yet all he could think of as he stared into Sam Carter's bewildered eyes was how entirely hot she looked right now.

"Carter!" He chirped, thrusting his hands down into a respectful position on the desk in front of him. Carter's eyes twinkled as he tried to shake off the embarrassing moment, knowing thathe was hoping he'd get away without any smart-ass comments. He was the General, after all. And she was only a Colonel. She was serving under him… had to do what he said. He blinked and took pause as a very graphic image of Carter 'serving under him' flashed in his mind.

Dammit! She's staring at me… with her head titled and she's definitely thinking something she shouldn't be!

"I brought the report you wanted," she stated as she pushed a file onto his desk. He reached for it instantly, averting his eyes. He would not stare at her like…

Like she was something to be consumed, his thoughts finished for him. Oh, God… he groaned inwardly.

"Are you okay, sir?"

Had she noticed the film of sweat that was tickling his pores more feverishly with every moment she remained?

"Uh… fine," he stammered. "Good. I mean - yes, thank you." He cleared his throat, trying to ignore how amused she looked. She had that damn twinkle in her eyes. Mischief is what it was screaming. He hated it. Hadn't he nurtured it himself? He allowed himself a snort as he realised he had fostered mischief in Sam Carter. Him! In her!

Oh for cryin' out loud! Another mental image assaulted him and he couldn't withhold the groan it encouraged. He closed his eyes and his hand gripped tightly on her report.

"Sir, you seem to be… roused by something."

Oh, she so did not say that!

Jack was briefly worried that he had strained something in his neck with the sudden jolt it took to look up at her and then he saw the twinkle shine brighter. And was she swaying her hips as she walked closer?

"I'm fine, Carter." Clearing his throat again, he ruffled the pages in the file with too much force, smashing the corners at the bottom of the paper because he couldn't take his eyes off her hips.

Her thighs were touching his desk now and she leaned over, to be eye-level with him. Jack gulped.

"You look a little pale, maybe you should…" she prattled on, pulling her best concerned expression and he tuned out. Jack tried to scowl at her, he really did, but his eyes were refusing to refrain from gliding over the curve of her…

"…breast, sir."

He choked on the breath he should've taken.

Breast? What the?

"What did you just say, Colonel?" His bark made her snap to attention and she frowned at him.

"I said…" She took a breath and he be damned if the innocence on her face wasn't schooled. "Maybe you should go see the doctor; you really don't look the best, sir."

Best, she had said best. His brain was taking him to very crazy spins on reality today. Normally, in his present state of boredom, he'd welcome it but it seemed to be stuck on a particular topic today.

"Didn't sleep too good last night," he grumbled. And he hadn't… slept well. But he had dreamt well. A little too well, in fact. So much so that the very lucid dreams he'd had, concerning a certain officer currently staring at him like he was three fries short of a Happy Meal, were starting to bleed into his conscious mind.

"I hope you weren't up all night, sir."

I've created a monster…

Did he just see her lips twitch? Must be his imagination. Had to be.

"Was there something else, Colonel?" He decided ignoring her would be the best option.

"No, sir."

"Dismissed." He chanced a glimpse up and caught her walking out. Hips swaying... muscles clenching… relaxing. When she was gone, he let an appreciative sigh float from him. The woman did have a fine ass.

So, he was back to being bored again. Bored with nothing but Sam Carter on his mind. He shifted uncomfortably and glanced to his lap, admitting that Carter was on more than his mind. What was he supposed to do now?

A knock at the door caught his attention and he pulled his chair as far underneath the desk as it would go and prayed that whoever it was didn't need him to get out of his seat. "Come in," he growled, hoping his tone would send a message.

Walter walked in and paused a moment, shook his head and said, "Supplies just dropped off the new letter-headed paper you requested, sir." He marched quickly over and set a ream of paper on Jack's desk.

Jack raised an eyebrow at it. "I requested paper?" The hell he had!

Walter, who had been trying to make a hasty exit, was stopped in his tracks. He turned with impatience and Jack narrowed his eyes at the Sergeant when he sighed as if he was about to explain to a child why they shouldn't touch something hot.

"Actually, sir…"

How many sentences can that man start with that phrase? Jack wondered, licking his lips and quirking his eyebrow distractedly at the thought.

"…The President requested it."

Walter shrugged as Jack's eyebrows climbed higher and he exclaimed, "Oh?"

"Ah, yes. Everyone else uses that particular paper when creating documents for the President's eyes, sir."

"I never do."

"Exactly, sir."

"What?"

"What?"

"Walter!" Jack snapped. The sergeant cringed a little and waited for Jack to continue. "How come I didn't know about this?"

"There was a memo, sir."

"Ah."

Never got no memo…

"Is there anything else, sir?" When Jack remained staring pensively into space for a long moment, Walter wondered if the General had forgotten he was still there.

"Huh? No." Jack frowned, settling dazed eyes on Walter then scratched his head and shooed Walter out with his other hand.

He stared at the ream of paper and stretched across the width of his desk, sliding it in front of him. He tore at the packaging and studied the paper inside. Nothing fancy. Just more America the Great crap personified in a few logos. What was wrong with plain old paper? Who did the President think he was?

Jack snapped one of the pages out and lifted a pen… at least it would provide him with some satisfactory doodling! That would show them and their fancy schmancy paper.

Up in the left hand corner he drew the SGC logo and smiled admiringly at his art work. His eyebrows danced as he drew a little picture of himself underneath it, holding his P-90 and wearing his much missed baseball cap.

Tell me again why it's inappropriate for me to wear a baseball cap on base?

Something about being General popped briefly, very briefly, into his mind as he continued to draw. Next he drew Daniel, scratching his head over a rock he had in his hands, then Teal'c… in his Teal'cness, standing with his hands behind his back. Jack made sure to draw his gold tattoo in though. That left Carter. He toyed with drawing her and her laptop but with a wicked grin, realising only he would see it, he drew her close to his representation, lips puckered and love hearts flying from her in his direction. He chuckled evilly as he took in his masterpiece.

Monet, eat your heart out!

Jack glanced at his watch. He had another hour before he could respectfully blow this joint. He sighed and sized up the rest of the blank page, his mind returning dangerously to Sam Carter. As he thought about what he'd like to do with Carter and the reasons why he could only ever dream about it, he found himself scrawling words onto the page.

Dear Mr. President,

I've decided that saving the planet and quite a few more (ask Carter, she remembers all the P-what numbers) from loads of snakeheads means that you owe me a few favours. So, I was hoping you'd take this into consideration.

Jack O'Neill's Wish List

1. Sam Carter.

1.1. Yes, I mean Lieutenant Colonel Samantha Carter.

2. A new yoyo.

2.1 Preferably red. Always liked red.

3. Frat regulations wiped from memory.

3.1. Everyone's

4. New TP.

4.1. The current stuff really chaffs.

5. The person who thought up the frat regs, tortured.

5.1 Slowly.

5.2 By Ba'al.

6. The words 'Actually, sir' stricken from the base vocabulary.

6.1 Especially Walter's.

7. Sam Carter.

7.1 Kissing me.

8. Daniel's coffee switched for decaf.

8.1 Carter's starting to consider him as a justifiable energy source.

9. A big honking supply of candles for Teal'c.

9.1 The guy loves to Kel-No-Reem.

10. Sam Carter drugged.

10.1 In case she doesn't want to kiss me.

11. Colonic Irrigation added to the mandatory physical for Senators whenever Kinsey is on base.

11.1. The observation room open to all during.

12. A reminder to Carter that assaulting a superior officer is a court-martiable offence.

12.1 For when the drugs wear off.

13. A bill sent to Daniel for all his funeral overheads.

13.1 Might encourage him to stay alive.

14. A memo to Teal'c not to neglect his left eyebrow.

14.1 The right one seems to do all the heavy lifting.

15. Doughnuts on a Friday.

15.1 For morale.

16. My title changed to 'The Man'

16.1 Pertaining to the SGC only, of course - with no wish to step on your toes, sir.

17. All my physicals to be conducted by Sam Carter.

17.1 She is a doctor, after all.

18. A mute button for Daniel

18.1 That would be SO cool.

19. A restraining order on Sam Carter.

19.1 Just in case she gets angry and wants to kick me for drugging her. Those legs are long, you know.

20. Did I mention Sam Carter?

20.1 As my wife.

20.2 In my bed.

20.3 At my cabin.

20.4 Fishing.

You get the idea …

Yours truly,

General Jack O'Neill, a.k.a. The Man.

Jack bobbed his head as he held the page in his hands and read over it, grinning. The President would bust a lung if he saw this. Not to mention Carter. But she'd probably bust one of his… along with a few other vital organs. He twisted his face, thinking on it. He jumped when he realised someone was rapping on his door again. He hastily covered the page up with some of the documents on his desk and had time to appear nonchalant as Walter walked in.

"I'm just finishing up, sir, getting today's reports ready. Is there anything specific you wanted me to take care of before I go home?"

Jack glanced at his watch. Home time! Well, that had possibly been the most productive hour he'd had all day - and the most stimulating, well, mentally stimulating anyway.

"No, Walter," he replied jovially, bouncing out of his chair and grabbing his green jacket from the back of his seat. "Go home! Take a load off!"

Walter stared curiously after Jack, his brow furrowed before shaking his head and heading over to collect the reports from the General's outbox.


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