Chapter Text
Sam stripped her BDUs off like they were the enemy. She wrapped a towel around her body and stalked into the shower room. She slammed the towel in the hook and stepped into the stall. She turned on the hot water and stepped under the steam without waiting for it to warm up.
“Dammit,” she thought, “I forgot the shower gel.” Just as she was about to turn off the faucet she saw the bottle of shampoo someone had left. She shrugged and squeezed some into her hand, thinking she could kill two birds with one stone.
“Birds and stones,“ she muttered, scrubbing hard enough to take a layer of skin off, “there’s a bird I’d like to stone right now.”
She remembered the look in his eyes as he ordered the iris closed. She knew what was coming. She stood there and watched him, and she saw him watching her. They both heard the ‘thump’ of Alar’s body hitting the iris. Colonel O’Neill had just murdered a man, and she said nothing.
But then after they briefed Hammond, he had brushed off her “Colonel, if I might have a minute,” request with a cold stare and a turned back that had her seething. She knew, knew, that he thought he’d destroyed her trust in him as her CO.
“Bastard! It isn’t like I didn’t already know.”
She continued to scrub her skin ruthlessly, shoving down the thought that she had known about what he did in special ops ever since she hacked his file. Damn it all. She knew what he was; she just never expected to actually see it standing in front of her and in her face. She didn’t expect him to dare her to care about him now.
She turned off the water and dried off, her every movement stoking her anger at him. She hastily put her civilian clothes back on. She realized almost too late that she put her skirt on backwards. She was still angry, and tugged on the skirt and spun it around her hips until the zipper was in the back.
“Damn bastard,” she repeated.
Jack took off his BDUs and wrapped a towel around his waist. He pulled his all in one shower gel from his locker. He slammed the door hard enough for it to bounce open and hit the locker next to it. He padded to a shower stall and hung the towel on a hook before he stepped in and turned on the cold water full blast. The cold spray stung his body like ice pellets. He stood for a moment before squeezing soap onto a washcloth and started scrubbing his body.
The briefing for Hammond had been bad enough. He really hated telling him they came back with nothing after such a promising start. Hammond didn’t even raise an eyebrow when Jack told him about the rows and rows of the look alike’s in hibernation, or how Alar’s father had started the war to wipe out the “Breeders”.
Jack turned into the stinging water. He knew Daniel and T were ok, but he wasn’t sure what to expect from Carter. He ran the soapy washcloth over his hair. Yeah. Carter. That little meeting in the hall. What did she want from him anyway? An apology for killing a murderer? He ducked his head under the streaming water and rinsed the soap out of his hair. He turned the water off and grabbed the towel and soap.
It didn’t take him long to dry off and pull on clean cargo pants and a dark polo shirt of indeterminable color. He didn’t bother with a jacket. He shoved his truck keys in his pocket, shut the locker door, and headed toward the elevator.
He’d just punched the button for the second time when Carter stepped beside him. It took everything he had not to look at her. Damn it, he thought, punching the button viciously. He could feel the animosity rolling off her.
The longer they stood there, the madder he got. Her foot was tapping a steady rhythm on the concrete floor, each tap like a nail in his head, and in his heart to be honest.
When the doors opened he stepped in. They both reached to punch the button at the same time. When their fingers touched, she glared at him. He raised a brow.
“By all means, Major,” he said, indicating the button, “give it all you’ve got.”
They rode the elevator up in icy silence. She tore the paper with the pen when she signed out at the security desk before stepping into the second elevator. Jack hastily scribbled his initials and stepped in sideways just as the doors closed. He figured he’d earned this Arctic ride up and he was determined to take every single miserable second of it to stoke his anger.
From what he could tell when he gave Carter a sideways look, she was trying to cool her anger at him by counting breaths to ten then starting over. The doors opened and they headed toward the blast doors and then on down to the parking lot.
Sam had tried to ignore the hostile man standing beside her in the elevator by staring straight ahead. She was barely able to contain her vibrating anger when they finally emerged into the crisp night air.
“Well, Major, I guess we can call it a day,” he drawled, his tone dripping with sarcasm.
She turned red when he called her by her rank instead of “Carter” and flipped him an insubordinate mock salute. She spat out, “Yes, sir, if you say so, sir.”
“Oh, I do, Major,” he said, the honey smooth voice hiding a bubbling volcano. He looked her up and down before returning her “salute” and walked briskly to his truck.
She was parked several spaces further down, but her long strides ate up the distance quickly. She started her car and was backing out when he cut her off. She slammed her car into gear and pulled forward, allowing him passage. But as soon as he was by, she reversed out of the space. By the time they reached the street she had her car glued to the bumper of his truck. She was so angry she saw the streetlights through a reddish haze.
What the hell, he thought. She was on his bumper, following his every move like a race car driver slipstreaming. He pushed up to 90, hoping that would back her off. When that didn’t work he slowed almost to a crawl, but she was still there.
As he maneuvered the truck with her on his tail through the late night traffic, his brain gave him a heads up display of her standing on the ramp. He saw it in her eyes. She would either never forgive him, or she knew and understood. And he’s not sure which one would hurt him more. Maybe if she never forgives him he can move on. But if she understood, if she truly can get into his mind and understand, he’s not sure if he could live with that. It would be easier to stay pissed off and push her away rather than to know he is the reason for dragging her down into understanding the evil that is murder. And that he is capable of it.
Speeding up again, he made a quick turn into a dark parking lot in an industrial area. He slammed to a stop, grimacing as she almost took out his bumper. He barely had time to put the truck in park and set the emergency brake before she jerked open his door.
“What the hell do you think you have to prove?” she ground out.
“You’re out of line, Major!” he yelled back, jerking off his seat belt.
He turned to get out, but she walked right up into the space beside the driver seat.
“You think I don’t know?” she yelled, staring into his darkened eyes, his head backlit by the dome light in the truck.
“Who the hell do you think you are to turn your back when I’m trying to talk to you?” she said, then stopped and inhaled deeply.
She didn’t come here to say all of that. She just wanted to fight, make her point, and go home.
He looked at her and saw it in her eyes. She was angry at him. Rightfully so. But in the anger was understanding. She was telling him she was OK with him. All of him. Even the darkest, most repulsive parts of him.
She understood. He felt a primal urgency to prove she did not.
The next thing he knew, he wrapped his hand around the back of her head. He pulled her in and kissed her hard. She tried to push away and resist at first. But after only a few seconds, her hands grabbed the back of his head and she crushed her teeth into his.
The song “Panama” by Van Halen was playing softly in the background. She stepped up on the running board, and straddled him in the driver’s seat, not taking her mouth off him. He eased the seat back. She let her tongue enter his mouth, and she moved in his mouth answering questions that have lingered for years.
She used her left hand to lift the center console up into stow position, which gave her knee and leg more room. She ground down on him and found him getting hard, and large. She pulled her mouth from his, and he grabbed both of her breasts in his hands and squeezed. He put his mouth to her breast and he sucked and bit at her nipple through her clothes. His hands went up under her skirt and grabbed her hips and pulled her down on his bulge.
“Fuck yes,” she hissed out.
Both of his hands moved to one side of her panties. He ripped a side open. She smiled with expectancy. He immediately put his fingers inside of her. She rolled her hips down onto his hand, feeling him touching her and unleashing a desire she had held for so long, a desire that matched her anger.
His mouth went back to her breast. He bit a little harder and she hissed as she felt his thumb on her clit. She began to rock to a rhythm of the anger between them.
She took his wrist and pulled his fingers out of her. She started to undo his pants. She opened his pants enough to pull him out. She had her hand wrapped around him and was stroking him. He grabbed both of her wrists and held them out to her side in the air, away from both of their bodies.
He looked her straight in the eyes. He saw raw hunger, and a burning anger. She looked at him and saw hesitation and heat. They both realized neither one was going to stop.
He let go and helped shimmy his pants down far enough to free him completely from his clothing confines. He held himself and stroked himself as she moved the remains of her panties to one leg so they wouldn’t get in the way.
She moved her body above him and slid down and took him all in at one time. She didn’t wait. She began to ride him hard. She reached her hand down and massaged herself. This would not take her long. This was building up for a long time.
It was just a few more thrusts and she came. She didn’t stop her frenetic thrusts above him.
“Go ahead, you bastard, finish what you started,” she whispered out.
He put his arms under her legs and elevated her hips a little above him by grabbing the steering wheel behind her. The move forced her arms to brace herself on the seat behind him. He was now thrusting up and into her from his seat. He was staring up at her and the look he was giving her was black, dark, and void. She looked down at him, feeling every hard and primal thrust he was pounding into her.
She saw his look. She returned the look and smirked, and then gave him a little laugh.
He knew then that she understood. There was nothing to forgive. There never was. No matter what he did from this moment on, she knew him. Nothing he could do would scare her. Ever.
He came. He dropped his arms and grabbed her hips again and stilled her body on top of him. His thumbs caressed her thighs as they both tried to calm down from whatever this was.
He laid his head on the head rest behind him and closed his eyes. She was still straddling him, her hands were still on the seatback. They were still breathing hard when she lifted her hips and put a finger inside of her. She dug out some of the creampie, then licked part of her finger. The rest she smeared into the scruff of his 5 o’clock shadow.
She carefully stepped out of the truck. She removed the ripped pair of panties from her leg. She threw them at him.
“Still angry?” he chided.
“Fuck you, Jack,” she replied, slamming his door shut. Then turned her back to him and walked back to her car.
He watched her walk, knowing she was pantyless and the rest of his come was probably leaking down her leg right now. And he could not see the small smirk on her face.
He slowly pulled his pants back up as he watched her make a u-turn to get out of the space they were in. He watched her flip him the bird as she drove by.
He grabbed her ripped and sodden panties and wiped his cheek off. He looked at the panties which now contained their combined liquids. Then he stuffed the panties in his pocket.
He smiled.
“Damn,” he laughed, “I am so screwed.”