Okay, so flying without a parachute has a few drawbacks. Especially when you find yourself free-falling and the ground that is rapidly rushing towards you looks really, really hard. You know this can't be good. Sure, you had a nice little bonfire, very cathartic. You're cured now, right? Every little psychosis you've ever suffered just magically disappeared with the trail of smoke that rose lazily into the sky. Yeah, right. If only life were so simple.
You *had* spent a nice evening with your friends, though, just like the old days. You even sat next to Jack, making real eye contact and everything. You remember being immensely thankful that Jack seemed to still care about you, even though you have proven to be a complete lunatic. He had smiled at you and squeezed your hand and promised to call, somehow aware that you would need to take this as slow as possible. He didn't even seem to care that you would both have to wait a little longer.
For some reason, however, rather than simply being glad and taking what life has offered you, some part of your brain seems to think it would be a good idea to see just how far his affections stretch. Or at least that must be what you are trying to do. What else would explain the fact that you stood him up for your first official date? And the second?
Tonight was supposed to be your third date. You have managed more than you did on the first two failed dates. This time you are actually dressed and ready to head out the door. The keys to your car are even already in your hand. But instead of exiting your house, you're sitting on the edge of your couch, wearing the dress you bought four years ago on an impulse because you just knew he would love it. Your nails are done, your hair is perfect, and you are wearing an amazing set of lingerie. So why, oh why, are you still sitting here?
Glancing at the clock, you note that you are already an hour late. You can only imagine his anger at being stood up yet again. He had been understanding the first time and quietly resigned the second. By the third, you know he must be losing all semblance of patience. You wouldn't be surprised if there wasn't a call to reschedule this time. You can't quite ignore the relief part of you feels at that thought. You realize then exactly what it is you are doing: attrition through absence. Or more simply, you are ignoring it and hoping it will go away.
The screech of tires as a vehicle pulls roughly into your driveway lets you know that you haven't quite escaped. After an impatient, loud knock he plows into your entryway, just as angry as you had imagined he would be. His anger dissipates quickly, however, as he stops short at the sight of you dressed to the nines, keys in hand, frozen on the edge of your couch.
He gently shakes his head and you can hear him mumble "Jesus, Carter," under his breath. You mindlessly muse whether you have stretched his affection too thin at this point. He reaches his hand out to you and gently says, as if he is speaking to a spooked animal, "Come on, Carter. Let's go get something to eat."
You simply stare at his hand, but make no move. Your mind, however, is working on double-time as your damn survival instinct kicks in and warns you away. What if it was just a stupid infatuation? What if he doesn't care about you as much as you care about him? What if you no longer have anything to say to each other now that you don't work together anymore? What if there really *is* a black widow curse? What if you absolutely suck in the sack? What if he does?
Somehow, he knows you are thinking a thousand miles a minute, but luckily for you, he has brought with him the perfect cure for your overloaded brain. He doesn't try to talk to you, knowing that it is useless. Instead, he steadily closes the distance between you, taking time to let his eyes travel over your body and take in your dress. His gaze burns into your flesh and you can tell he appreciates the dress as much as you always knew he would. But now, with that predatory gleam in his eye, you wish you had been wrong. He stops in front of you, just short of touching you, but you can feel the heat emanating from his body. You try to swallow the swelling panic in your throat, but your mouth feels like cotton. Your brain continues to nag at you as if from a great distance, but you find yourself mesmerized and incapable of movement.
You try not to flinch as he reaches out and trails one finger lazily down your arm. The hair on the back of your neck is standing on end and you are sure that if you could actually tear your eyes away from his long enough to look, you would see goose bumps on your arms. Then he begins to slowly lean in towards you, his lips near your ear as he softly whispers, "You know that you're nuts, right, Sam?" His voice is soft and affectionate and you can feel his warm breath against the skin on your neck. Unable to suppress the shivers that are now coursing down your back, you simply nod and say in a breathless voice that you barely recognize as your own, "Yes, Jack." He chuckles softly at you and leans in closer to your neck. As his lips brush gently against your skin, your eyes drift close and a soft sigh escapes your lips.
Now you aware that you are kissing Jack. Can you believe that Jack's lips happen to be the perfect form of therapy? Somehow, you know you should have been smart enough to figure that out. But you find that your brain doesn't work so well when his lips are…oh my. After about five minutes of his lips working magic on yours he pulls back abruptly to look at you. There is a gleam of satisfaction in his eyes, but you can't quite bring yourself to be bothered. In fact, your mind is blissfully quiet and all you really want to do is drag him back into your arms. You lean back into him, but he steps away and waves a finger at you. With an annoying grin on his face, he grabs your hand and propels you towards his car. "Let's get this show on the road, Carter, before your brain turns back on."
You nod serenely, knowing at that moment that you would follow him anywhere. Still dazed, you half-heartedly wonder if you really need a parachute after all. Maybe all you really need is Jack and his wonderful, medicinal, therapeutic, magical lips. Yeah… that sounds pretty great.
Parachutes by Annerb
Story Notes: Email: annerbhp@yahoo.com
Spoilers: None
Season: Season 7ish?
Archive: Yes, SJD and Heliopolis
Author's Note: Somebody out there asked for this sequel, so blame them! :)
Feedback: Always appreciated!
Spoilers: None
Season: Season 7ish?
Archive: Yes, SJD and Heliopolis
Author's Note: Somebody out there asked for this sequel, so blame them! :)
Feedback: Always appreciated!
DISCLAIMER: All publicly recognisable characters, settings, etc, are the property of their respective owners. Any original characters and plots are the property of the author. No money is being made from this work. No copyright infringement is intended. ... [ read more ]