Up the Waterspout by splash_the

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Story Notes: For Jara, who asked me to write about Sam rescuing Jack from certain arachnid doom. :)

Website: http://www.potameides.com/sgshipfic/

splash_the_cat@potameides.com

Up the Waterspout

"You've got to be kidding. Sir."

Jack stood on the opposite side of the deck, pressed against the railing. "Damn it, just look, okay?" He jabbed a finger at the closed cover of the grill.

Sam sighed, shrugged and lifted the cover. And tried very, very hard not to laugh.

"I don't think it's human," she heard him mutter as she closed the lid.

"No, sir, probably not."

"I mean," he glared, and she bit her lip. Hard. "I think it has too many legs to be from *here*, Carter."

Everyone had teeny tiny irrational phobias. She wasn't very fond of snakes (though with very good reason, she thought) and she hated the little wormy things that kept infesting her ivy. So she shouldn't make fun of him. Really. "Colorado?"

But sometimes...

"Earth!"

Sam half-expected him to stomp his foot. Which would be bad, because she'd have to laugh. And laughing would be bad. Very bad.

Hysterical, even.

By now he was perched on the deck railing. Which became worse than stomping his foot when he waved his hands at the grill and almost toppled backwards onto the lawn. "Just get rid of it."

"You could just turn the gas on and wait."

"Oh, ew!" It was cute how his face scrunched up like that.

"Carter, we have to cook food in there!"

Oh, now she really wanted to tell him about the special she'd seen on the Discovery channel, about some South American tribe that ate tarantulas. But that would lead to laughing, and that would lead nowhere good. "Could you hand me that cup then, sir?"

Jack inched around the perimeter of the deck and grabbed the plastic cup off the table. He pulled back his arm. Then looked at her. Dropping his arm to his side he sauntered over next to her.

Sam wondered if this counted as hazardous duty. Keeping a straight face felt like it could cause her serious internal injury.

"Uh, Carter, can we get a move on? The guys will be here any minute."

She'd have to ask Janet later if there was ever a case of someone bursting something important while trying not to laugh. Because there was this tight stitch in her side now.

"*Car*ter..."

She grabbed the cup and started humming.

And counting.

Two. Three. Four. Lifting the grill cover she peeked underneath. Five. Six. Seven. She rattled the grill a little, watching for movement. Eight. Nine.

At ten Jack's head snapped up. "Oh. *Oh*. Not funny. Not funny at *all*."

"What's not funny? Sir?" The stitch tightened. Was the appendix on that side? Oh, maybe it was her spleen.

"You, Carter. You are not funny. You are evil. Insubordination *incarnate*."

It really would be unprofessional to reach behind him and crawl her fingers up his spine. So instead she lifted the grill rack out of the way. "Aha!"

"Aha?"

In answer she slapped the cup down and scooped, closing her hand over the mouth of the cup. "Where do you want it?" She turned to find him suddenly about three feet behind her.

"Uh, you can just dump it over the edge. Or... maybe out by the tree."

When she came back up on the deck she handed him the cup. He immediately tossed it in the trash, vigorously rubbing his hands on his pant. Then realized what he was doing and quickly shoved his hands in his pockets. "Uh, thanks, Carter. I'll uh, get the burgers on."

"Need some help, sir?"

"No, no, uh, you just take a load off. I'll... get you a beer."

He paused at the sliding glass door. "It *was* big, wasn't it?"

"Giant, sir. Huge."

END

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