Title: Weirdly ever after

Author: Polly Lynn

Email:[email protected], Feedback, yes please.

Status: WIP

Category: SJR, Action/Adventure


Spoilers: The Fifth Race, In the Line of Duty, Jolinar’s Memories, Revelations, Fragile Balance (Basically makes reference to lots involving the Asgard and Sam’s merry jaunt through Tok’ra hostdom)

Season/Sequel Info: Future fic, immediately after Jack retires

Rating: NC-17 for explicit (albeit very happy and tame) sex in Chapter I, potential for smut later on, but most of it is PG

Content warnings: Erm, none that I can think of.

Disclaimer: Not only are none of these people or the Universe in which they live mine, I’m shocked that they showed up in my head one day in narrative form. MGM, Showtime, Viacom, The Gekko folks, and Double Secret Extra Fudgey TV all make money off them and I don’t, as is right and proper.

Author’s Notes: I thought this was going to be a short PWP, as the world clearly needs my take on the “Jack retires, everyone gets nekkid and sweaty scenario,” but then it started to segue into something large and hairy with a plot-shaped gooey center. Everyone knows that the world just might end if Jack ever got any, so let’s sit back and watch the wackiness that ensues. Oh, and I started writing this before Chimera ever aired (and being unspoiled, before I even knew that there would be an ep called Chimera, so that aspect of the plot-shaped thingy was just an odd coincidence).

Acknowledgments: To my lovely Hun beta who helped me avoid reference to sodden folds, then pulled me back from the edge of “blood rushed into the corpus callosum, cutting off the venous return,” when writing the smutty parts. And to the good folks at Sealab 2021 for writing the immortal words, “I said it’s dodgeball time, bitch!” thus inspiring me.

Archive: In the unlikely even that anyone wants to archive my dreck, please just e-mail and let me know where it’ll be.

Chapter I: Love in the time of Dodgeball
Pt. i of iii in this chapter---this part's rated PG

Sam and Jack strolled at a leisurely pace across the restaurant parking lot to their cars. As they stepped into the orange pool of light cast by the sodium lamp, the amiable chatter that had floated behind them up to that point suddenly stopped.

Hiking up his jacket Jack shoved his hands in his pockets and stared down toward his uncomfortable dress shoes.

“So . . .” he began, a reserve all-too-familiar to Sam creeping back into his voice.

Damn, she thought to herself, Pumpkin time, I guess.

“So,” she repeated, clutching her tiny, useless purse a bit tighter.

Jack rushed to fill in the silence, hoping to stave off the inevitable conclusion that they should each be getting home, “This was nice. I’m glad Daniel insisted I have a ‘civilian’ retirement party outside the mountain, too. Definitely worth it. Even if it means wearing one of these . . .” he yanked impatiently to loosen his tie.

“Yeah!” Sam replied a little too brightly. “Even worth these,” she gestured down toward her high-heeled mary janes and regretted it an instant later as Jack’s eyes trailed up her legs and seemed to stick.

“Definitely worth it,” he murmured.

After another uncomfortable pause, Sam blurted, “I never realized you had so many friends outside the SGC . . .”

Jack barked out a short laugh, “Don’t let it get around, Carter. Be a shame to ruin my crusty, friendless ogre rep on the eve of retirement.”

Sam winced, “No, it’s not . . . ,” she reached out to touch his arm, then thought better of it, “I just mean there’s a lot of your life we . . . I’ve never gotten to see.”

“Yeah,” Jack relented, “Although I can’t say I wasn’t nervous with you and Diane whispering together all night.”

“You should be nervous! I know your secret now!” Sam couldn’t help but laugh outright at his panicked expression, “All those visits to her class and you never once won a single dodgeball game?”

“I let them win!” Jack shot back defensively, “Can’t exactly showcase my sniper training on a bunch of 11-year-olds, can I?” He sniffed, “Besides, rubber balls aren’t really my medium.”

Sam coughed, not really trying to cover another laugh, “Of course, sir. And the same with floor hockey. And flag football, no doubt.” Her face softened, “Seriously. I think it’s great. I don’t know how you made the time for all that. I’m always thinking I should be doing more . . . making a difference around here, but there’s always some new problem . . .”

“Well,” Jack puffed out his chest in mock condescension, “Not everyone can really suck at sports, so I guess you’ll just have to go on ‘making a difference’ with your little particle whatchamajiggers and saving this planet’s sorry ass every other day.”

“Guess so . . .” she hesitated, “But I mean it. I admire that. You taking the time to do that. Spend time with kids, be a role model . . .”

“Carter,” he shot her a warning glare, “So help me, if anything you learned about me tonight gets around and people start thinking fondly of yours truly when he’s not around to set them straight . . .”

Sam smiled widely up at him, looking away half a second later. Like always. Jack was used to it---the way her eyes slid away from his, a careful reminder against feeling too much. Used to it and, suddenly, deathly tired of it.

“So,” he said, surprised at the sound of his own voice, “Didn’t see any staggering across the parking lot.”

Sam’s smile evaporated, “Sir?”

“You. You’re in good shape.” He waved a hand toward her car, “Fully capable of operating heavy machinery.”

“Yes. Fine.” Annoyance crept into her voice as she caught his implication, “I hardly had anything to drink. God, sir, I’d think that after all these years, you of all people would know I can handle . . .”

Jack wandered off toward her car mid-tirade. Sam watched in puzzlement as he ran a hand over the hood. He turned abruptly to face her, leaning against the driver’s window.

“Car running ok?” He asked, the nervous drumming of his hands against the door giving lie to his casual tone.

“Fine . . .” She paused, waiting for some further cue, “Just tuned it up this weekend.”

Jack nodded shortly as he continued his rhythmic tapping. Frustrated, Sam pulled her lower lip between her teeth and looked into the distance, shaking her head in confused irritation.

“Truck’s in good shape too,” he scowled. “No problems at all . . .”

“That’s . . . good?” Sam said tentatively, more confused than ever by the vehemence behind his words.

“It sucks, Carter,” He raised his eyes to hers. “Sucks. You sure you feel ok?”

Sam threw up her hands in exasperation. “I’m fine! Not drunk. Not sick. Just fine. Fully capable of operating heavy machinery . . . ”

Jack flashed her a minute, mischievous grin. “. . . that sucks, too.”

Sam couldn’t help offering an aggravated half smile in return, “ . . . but I’m beginning to wonder about you.”

Jack stilled his hands and pushed away from the car. “Oh, I’m fine too . . .”

“ . . . which---let me guess---sucks?” Sam asked, quirking an eyebrow.

“You betcha,” Jack agreed taking a step toward her.

“I’m not following you, sir.”

“Ya think?” Jack drew a dramatic breath. “The problem, Sam . . .” he faltered for a moment, then rushed on, “ . . . the problem is here we are: Sober, healthy, two perfectly functional vehicles. No crisis. No breakdowns. No . . . aliens messing with our motor skills.”

“Missing that already?” Sam wondered.

“At the moment? Yeah. ‘Cause with out any of those things, there’s absolutely no reason why you shouldn’t get in your car and I shouldn’t get in my truck and go home. Alone.”
He risked a quick, panicked glance her way. At best, her expression was completely blank. At worst . . . well he didn’t want to think about that, so he kept talking. Maybe he was a bit drunk.

Jack shoved his hands in his pocket and turned toward his truck. “So, for once we’ve got a whole lotta nothin’ goin’ on. Guess I’ll say good . . .”

Sam interrupted, “You could ask.”

Jack halted with his back to her, “. . . night?” He pivoted to face her, “Ask?”

Sam’s gaze was level and determined, “Me. Not to go home. Alone.”

Jack stared at her as if she’d just said “Yahoo Serious Film Festival.” The small part of his brain that wasn’t trying to puzzle out what those words could mean spoken altogether noted the uncertainty overtaking Sam’s face as his stunned silence stretched out between them.

“Or . . . you could ask me,” he countered.

“I could,” Sam remarked, her confidence returning. “But I’m the girl. You’re old fashioned.”

Jack was beginning to enjoy himself in the microseconds between waves of shock and panic. “And you’re a pain in the ass about me being old fashioned,” he shot back.

“I’m a pain in the ass about a lot of things,” Sam crossed her arms over her chest and tilted her head back, mimicking him.

Jack went with the moment, “Come with me, Sam.”

“Why?”

“Excuse me?” Jack leaned toward her, cocking his head to the side.

“What for?” Sam batted her eyelashes.

She. Actually. Batted. Her eyelashes. Jack had no idea she could even do that. She was evil.

“What for . . . for a . . . nightcap!” He looked pleased with himself.

“No, sorry,” Sam shook her head, reaching out to pat her car, “Gotta operate heavy machinery eventually. Gotta keep sharp.”

Definitely evil, Jack thought.

“Some wholesome, rooftop stargazing then? That safe enough for you Carter,” Jack asked innocently, with just a hint of condescension.

Sam rose to the bait, “Safe? Safe?” She ferociously began to dig her car keys out of her evening bag.

“Wait! Just hear me out,” Jack stepped between her and her car.

“I think I’ll just be going home alone after all.” Sam impatiently took a step around him, extending the key in her right hand toward the car door.

Jack’s hand closed around her wrist as he backed himself up against the driver’s side door. Stunned, Sam’s head snapped up and she stumbled a step forward.

Jack caught her other arm to help her balance and froze for a heartbeat, then two. He glanced warily toward the sky, half expecting a tell-tale beam of light to snatch one of them away. A smile like Sam had never seen before lit up his face, and he laughed.

“I’ve got just the thing,” he said, suddenly yanking her arms downward, and pulling her closer. He whispered conspiratorially in her ear, “Full-contact. Midnight . . . Dodgeball.”

Sam snorted indelicately and rested her head against his shoulder, temporarily weak with laughter and relief. “You’re on!” She said, her voice muffled as she smiled against him.

“Sweet!” Jack stood her carefully back upright and released her arms. He clapped his hands and looked from his truck to her car. “So . . . how do we do this?”

Sam nudged him away from her car door with her hip and opened the lock in one fluid move. She threw suggestive smile over her shoulder. Jack thought he might die right then and there.

“If you don’t know that, sir,” she said, opening the door, “I think you’re about to lose another game.” She slid behind the wheel and smiled up at him. “See you at your place.”

Jack watched silently as she slammed the door, threw her car in gear.

“Evil!” He shouted after her retreating vehicle as he climbed into his truck and followed.

Go to Chapter I, pt. ii