Disclaimer - MGM/Gekko/Double Secret own them.
Rated PG-13 for nudity and implied sexual situations. Humour and future fic.
I cannot believe I wrote this. I mean seriously. Out of all the fics I've written, this is the one I really *cannot* believe. {points at SelDear} It's all her fault! It *is*! She told me to!
This is very, very, VERY silly. Feedback, you know...ahem {hides}.
*
She'd be the first to admit that she'd been in a foul mood ever since she got home.
Actually, she'd be the first to admit that she'd been in a foul mood since long before she got home. It wasn't any one thing, but today was just one of those days. When every single, tiny little apparently insignificant thing...bugged the hell out of her.
And considering the fact that it'd started the moment she'd arrived at work, by the time she actually left the SGC, Sam was...less than pleased.
So after she'd negotiated the journey home (nearly mowing down some stupid jaywalker in the process), she'd thumped into the house and slammed the door behind her.
To discover that Jack was in a *really* good mood.
Somehow that made everything ten times worse. How *dare* he be happy when she was so fundamentally pissed off! And him! *Him* of all people! This was the man who lived on cynicism and sarcasm, and he was busy smiling and asking how her day was.
Argh!
Bastard!
She wasn't about to let his happiness spoil her bad mood. "Are you just asking to be polite, or do you really want to know? Because if you really want to know I'll *tell* you."
Standing in the living room with her as she slipped out of her jacket and threw it carelessly onto the sofa, he finally seemed to realise something was wrong.
"What happened?"
"Nothing," She replied, falling back onto the sofa and letting it break her fall. "Nothing happened at all. Just a *bad* *day*." To be honest, she really didn't want to get into the list of things that had cumulatively resulted in her Very Bad Day - talking about them would only annoy her more.
And he was still standing there. Doing that cute concerned frown thing that she was definitely finding *really* irritating. "Will you just..." She gestured somewhere beyond the living room. "Go away, please? I don't mean to sound like a bitch - actually, I do - but I just...really need to be alone right now." She needed to stew, without interruptions.
Jack very, very carefully didn't say a word, simply nodding silently and walking away, towards the hallway.
When he was gone Sam sighed in relief, tilted her head back against the sofa and closed her eyes. She felt vaguely guilty, but the annoyance was still so high that it barely registered. She just needed to relax. De-stress. Enjoy the silence...
So when the music suddenly started playing her head snapped up and her eyes snapped open.
That was definitely coming from the bedroom. *What* was he *playing* at?
Sam vaguely recognised the music, but she too busy bitching at him in her head to think about it much. Sitting forward on the sofa, she glared towards the hallway - then paused said glaring when he came into view.
He was dressed exactly how he'd been when she'd walked in - jeans, black shirt - but now he had one of his black beanie caps on his head.
And then he started...moving.
It took a frowning Sam several moments to figure out just what he was doing. Was he...was it possible...was he *actually* trying to move his hips in time to the music?
The problem with Jack (well, there were several problems with Jack, but this was a specific one) was that he had almost no rhythm when it came to music. Formal dancing he could just about pull off - they'd gone to enough Air Force functions together for her to know. But the kind of dancing you did at a friend's party? First of all it took enough effort just to get him to dance in the first place and when he did...well, suddenly you realised just why it took so much effort to get him to dance in the first place.
Absolutely useless. He so completely had two left feet that he might as well throw all of his right boots away.
As she continued to stare at him, uncomprehending, suddenly her brain decided to pick that moment to really recognise the music, and connect it together with his movements.
Oh, no way... "You can't be serious." She said. "*Tell* me you're not being serious."
He told her nothing of the kind of course, instead shuffling further into the room, badly out of time to the music.
Fighting to overcome her disbelief Sam began to think that in actuality, this might be kind of...interesting. The clothes he was wearing weren't exactly conducive to his apparent course of action. His shirt had no buttons, and his jeans definitely weren't the kind of pants you could pull off with one strong tug.
More than anything, she was interested in the mechanics of what he was intending to do.
So she sat and watched.
But she wasn't going to enjoy herself.
At all.
As it turned out, he coped with the shirt quite well, hooking his thumbs up under the bottom of it and teasing her (uh, it. Teasing *it*) away from his body a few times, shifting his shoulders around as the music continued to play (she briefly wondered a) how long this was going to take, and b) whether he'd put the CD on repeat), before yanking his shirt off in one almost-smooth moment. Okay, okay - so it got a little caught up around his head, but she simply had to give him points for effort.
After the shirt was cast aside and he stood there, topless (she was *not* going to enjoy this), his hands moved to his jeans.
That was when she first started to smile.
He turned his back towards her, shimmying his body up and down (wow, that had to hurt his knees, especially if those grunts were anything to go by). What actually made her smile was the fact that his attempts to look 'sexy' by gyrating his hips, were completely undermining his attempts to unzip and pull off his jeans.
So yeah. Her lips quirked when he cursed. When he stopped the ridiculous gyrating. When he turned to face her. When he simply unzipped his jeans and pulled them down.
He started moving again, 'dancing' out of his jeans, then kicking them aside - another little movement that made her smile.
This *really* was the *most* ridiculous thing *ever*...
She fought against the grin threatening to overwhelm her face, firmly pursing her lips together - up until the moment, clad only in his hat, socks, and boxers - that he held out a leg towards her.
It was just the image. Wearing almost nothing, and extending a sock-clad foot towards her, his arms spread out wide trying to help him keep his balance (a plan that, judging by the swinging of the arms just might be failing sometime soon).
Her resolve cracked. She grinned, and pulled the proffered sock from his foot, swinging it in a circle over her head.
Obviously pleased he stood on both legs, and moved his hips from side to side as she released the sock, and it went sailing through the air (landing, by her estimation, somewhere near the plant Daniel had bought them last year).
He turned away again, this time extending his other sock-clad foot towards her *backwards*.
Chuckling she grabbed that one too, though this time she removed it slowly, tugging it free inch by inch. When it was off she threw it away just as she had the first one (this time landing on top of the TV).
When he faced her again she was ready, grabbing the waistband of his boxers, tugging him towards her. Grinning up at him. "I think I can handle this part."
"Ah ah," He batted her hands away, moving back out of her reach.
This wasn't part of her plan. "Hey!"
Evidently, *he* had a plan, and she soon discovered what it was. Turning his body around again he faced the other side of the room, his thumbs hooking over the edge of his boxer shorts. Still moving to the music, he'd pull them lower and lower - then suddenly pull them back up again. Eventually though, he finally did what he'd been promising to do since he'd first walked into the living room - he pulled them off completely.
Sighing, Sam leant back on the sofa again. Any day where she got to stare at Jack's ass couldn't be *all* bad.
Sam was still appreciating his nakedness - even from behind - when he did it. When he lowered his head. Pulled his hat off.
Holy...
Wow, they were really going to have to wash that later.
But it was true. When he turned around just a few moments later, he was wearing the hat - in a place it really wasn't supposed to be worn.
With his arms spread dramatically, and the hat hanging where it was, it was quite clearly the end of the show.
Sam suspected she was in shock.
Which was quite possibly why she started laughing. Why she slid along the back of the sofa, her body landing sideways on the cushions. Why she snorted when he moved closer, and put his hands on his hips - especially as the hat was still there.
"Find something amusing, madam?"
Giggling - actually giggling - she looked up at him (his *face*). "Oh not at all," She insisted. "But I do have one question if you don't mind."
"Not at all," He replied, folding his arms across his chest (yet another hilarious image).
"Are you planning on keeping that hat on forever?"
In response, he casually looked down at the hat, looked at her, then back at the hat again. Casually. "Something tells me," Her hand was suddenly someplace very interesting. "I'm *not*!"
Excellent.
~FINIS