samandjack.net

Story Notes: Author's Notes: This is Flo's fault. She'll know why. Many thanks to the Horsewomen, for goading me on and suggesting some appropriate music. This was WAY too much fun to write. I love feedback, so please send some! Copyright April 2001, A. Cheek.


Sliding into the passenger seat of Colonel Jack O'Neill's Jeep, Major Samantha Carter gave a sigh of relief. "I'm glad I caught you, sir," she said as she buckled her seat belt. "Daniel didn't know until 1630 that he'd need to stay late, and Janet went straight home. And I always hate having to ask for a driver."

He waved his hand dismissively, car keys jingling. "Not a problem, Major. How much longer is your car supposed to be in the shop?"

"Oh, I got a message earlier today, and it's all fixed. The starter needed replacing. Daniel said he'd drop me by the repair shop tomorrow before we go to work. And if he's still stuck in the office, it won't be a problem. It's only about a mile from my apartment, so I can walk if I have to."

Jack started the car and shifted it into reverse, backing out of his parking space and then joining the moderately long line of cars waiting to leave. Once off base, traffic moved steadily. He paid attention to the road, while his second in command scribbled on a small notepad. But by the time they reached Colorado Springs, traffic once again slowed down to merely inching along.

With a muffled yawn, Sam closed her notepad and placed it in the pocket of her leather jacket. Quickly glancing over at Jack, she was met by raised eyebrows and a quick half-smile. Earlier, she'd been irritated that her carpool arrangements with Daniel had been derailed by a new set of translations, but now she was feeling rather grateful towards the archaeologist. It wasn't every day, after all, that she got to see Jack in civvies. *Does he have any idea how snug those jeans are?* she wondered to herself. Then, aware that if she continued scoping her CO out with lustful intent, he'd eventually notice, she looked around the vehicle.

"Do you mind if I turn on the radio, sir?" she asked quickly.

"That's fine," he replied, sighing as the traffic light turned red before the cars ahead of him could get through the intersection. "Pick whatever you like."

"Actually, sir," she smiled, "Daniel told me that the only channels that work in your Jeep are NPR and the classic rock station."

"Nah," he grinned. "I had some detailing done a while back, and decided to replace the sound system at the same time. Now it picks up just about any channel around, and has a CD player and cassette tape deck." Jack preened slightly, aware that his mode of transportation had been the target of some teasing from Sam and Daniel in the past. Studiously ignoring the muttered comment of "boys and their toys" from his passenger, he eased up on the brake as traffic crept forward once more.

Turning the radio on, Sam hit the scan button, waiting to see if anything would catch her interest.

...obsession
You're my obsession
Who do you want me to be
To make you sleep with me

Horrified, Sam quickly pressed the scan button again, making sure to avoid Jack's gaze. *Just my luck*, she thought to herself. *Once again, we're going to be constantly reminded of some things that for now are better left unsaid.*

"...so come on down to Jim's pre-owned auto sales for the best low prices in Colorado Springs! No credit? No problem! Here at Jim's--"

Sam punched the scan button once more.

oh, I don't want anybody else
When I think about you
I touch myself

This time, Jack hit the button. "Rush hour," he explained hastily, hoping his ears weren't getting too red. "Nothing but commercials or pop songs." Why the hell did he get the damned radio replaced anyway? Technology always gave him trouble.

"...so stay tuned for more great country music!" Jack exhaled in relief, and Sam nodded thoughtfully. Not her favorite, but maybe if she were lucky some Mary-Chapin Carpenter would come on. They sat in silence through another series of commercials, and Jack tapped impatiently on the steering wheel until he finally made it through another intersection.

"Welcome back! It's time for our rush hour double-play! Coming right up, "Let's Make Love," by Tim McGraw and Faith Hill, followed by--"

Sam hit the scan button so quickly she broke a nail. "Damnit!"

"You okay?" Jack asked, aware that his voice was sounding a little strained. Why the hell did Daniel have to work late tonight anyway? This was his fault!

"Fine," she grumbled, quickly biting away the torn section of fingernail and staring at it dolefully. With all the fieldwork she did, why did she even bother getting a manicure in the first place?

A thumping techno-beat filled the air, and she perked up again. Dance music!

When I get you all alone
I'm gonna take off all your clothes
Ain't nobody gonna--

This time, they both reached for the scan button, Jack giving way to shift gears as he turned a corner. Sam punched the button savagely. Why had Janet insisted on leaving at 1600? Was picking her daughter up from art class more important than saving her best friend from total humiliation? She dropped her gaze once more, and saw Jack's legs again. *Tell me sir, did you need a shoehorn to get into those jeans, or did you just spray-paint them on? I bet they're starting to fray around the back seams, too!*

"Mind if I open the window just a bit?" she asked quietly. "It's a bit stuffy in here."

"No problem," Jack rolled his down a bit as well, and turned off the heater. Heck, it was 28 degrees outside. Plenty warm enough! Who needed heat?

"...that was 'Layla' by Eric Clapton. Coming up next, 'Feel Like Making Love' by Bad Company--"

Their eyes met. "Your turn," Sam gestured towards the scan button.

"Ladies first," he demurred.

Sam punched the button.

...and the things you make me do
My heart is ringing so I'm singing
this song for you

I'm horny, horny, horny, horny
so horny
I'm h--

Sam turned the radio off and buried her face in her hands, caught between total embarrassment and the urge to break into gales of hysterical laughter. *I bet something like this has never happened to any of those other Carters in alternate realities*, she thought fiercely. *Only I have to go through this!*

Jack took a deep breath as he turned onto a side street with a bit less traffic. Only another four miles or so, he told himself consolingly. A gust of wind blew in Sam's side of the car, carrying a whiff of her perfume to his nose. He shifted once more in his seat. No doubt about it, someone somewhere didn't like him very much! But he just had to drop her off at her apartment, then get home and take a shower. A nice cold one. Then he'd go to sleep. Do not pass go, do not have a couple of beers, and by all means, do NOT make a date with Mr. Hand. This was torture!

And what was that up ahead? Flashing lights? Peachy. A car accident.

Once he'd ascertained that there wasn't any safe way to turn around, and that the next side street was past the accident, he slumped back in his seat and sighed. "Looks like a bit more of a wait," he said bleakly.

Sam's glum expression was a mirror of his own. "That's just great," she snapped.

They sat for a few minutes in silence, then Jack sat forward once more. "NPR!" he exclaimed. "I bet the news is still on!"

He reached for the radio and quickly hit one of the buttons to go right to his favorite channel.

"...and that's all this evening for 'All Things Considered.' Thanks for joining us, and good night."

Sam toyed with the pocket of her jacket, wondering if at this point she should just get out and walk. She'd be home in an hour or so, right?

"And now, stay tuned for the Poetry Hour, with me, your host, James Blakefield. We're in for a rare treat tonight, as local actress Susanna Miles joins us for a recitation of translations from medieval Iranian love poems. These--"

Jack eased his car closer to the shoulder as a tow truck passed by, its lights flashing golden yellow in the twilight, noting gratefully that Sam had turned the radio back off.

Sam pulled her notebook out and began making a list of things to do. Item one: find out who was in charge of radio programming in Colorado Springs. Item two: kill them slowly and painfully. Item three: arrange alibi with Colonel O'Neill. She was sure he'd agree that it was justifiable homicide.

Jack craned his head out the window. It now appeared that the drivers involved in the accident were arguing over whose car would be towed first. Fortunately, the police had started directing traffic, letting a few cars past at a time.

But the silence in the car was getting a bit frightening. With a sudden burst of inspiration, he remembered the new book on tape that he'd bought a few weeks back. "Carter, do you like Tom Clancy?"

She looked up from her list. "Uh, he's okay, sir. Why?"

"Mind if I turn on an audio book?"

"No problem."

Jack turned on the cassette player.

"...letting him know that he was the one, that her world centered on him as his centered on her. But still his back and shoulders were tense and knotted. What was the matter?

" Her hands moved again, running over his chest, pulling playfully on the black hairs. That always set him off... especially as her hands followed the hairy trail down to..."

" What?"

" "Jack, what's wrong?" It seemed forever before she heard him speak."

" "I don't know." Jack rolled over, away from his wife, onto his back, and--"

Jack dropped his head onto the steering wheel. "I just can't stand it," he muttered, then reached over and turned the tape player off. *This can't be happening*, he thought morosely. *I'm dreaming. I will wake up to learn that there is no way that I am in the same car with the only woman alive that I want to get naked with, listening to a book on tape that just happened to start up at a love scene where the hero -- whose name is Jack, for crying out loud! -- is impotent in bed!*

Finally gathering up the courage to look over at his lovely passenger, he was mildly irritated to see her stifling a mad fit of giggles. "Something funny, Carter?"

She gave up her attempt at silence and burst into laughter. "Sorry, sir," she gasped, wiping her eyes, "it's just that-- that... it is a pretty funny situation when you think about it."

"I know! But it's also at our expense! I don't find that very amusing!" Some higher being, or radio programmer (which was just as bad) was getting his kicks from taunting him with music while in the company of a woman he very much desired but couldn't touch. He hoped whoever it was laughed good and hard, because if he ever, EVER got his hands on them..!

He was distracted from his internal diatribe by the sight of Sam reaching for the radio knob once more. "What are you doing?"

She shrugged, still grinning maniacally. "I'm bored. We're stuck in traffic. I'm going to find some music that I like."

* * * *

Loki looked up from his view screen at the sound of an incoming hail. Before he could answer it, a flash of light deposited his brother, Thor, onto the bridge of the Valkyrie.

"Loki," Thor asked with an air of long-suffering patience, "why are you orbiting Earth?"

"Conducting experiments," his brother replied innocently.

"Who are the subjects?" Thor leaned forward in curiosity, then did a double-take at the view screen. "For what purpose are you monitoring O'Neill and Major Carter?"

"If you must know," Loki replied condescendingly, "it's an experiment on the powers of music. You have heard the human expression, 'Music hath powers to soothe the savage beast?'"

"I have. But Loki, they don't look especially soothed at the moment!"

Loki shrugged. "I'm still refining my techniques."

* * * *

"...and coming up, another long song set with all your favorite artists. To start off, here's one from Jimmy Buffett."

"Yes!"

"Carter?"

She grinned happily. "I'm a devoted Parrothead, sir. Though I haven't been to one of his concerts in five years."

"Carter, I have a hard time picturing you dressed in a Hawaiian shirt and drinking a margarita."

"Learn something new every day, don't you sir?"

I really do appreciate
the fact you're sitting here
your voice sounds so wonderful
but your face don't look too clear

So barmaid, bring a pitcher
another round of brew
Honey, why don't we get drunk and screw?

Sam glanced over at Jack, who looked on the verge of apoplexy. "Don't change the channel!"

"Why not?" he responded in an anguished voice.

"Do you really think any of the other channels will be any better? Oh, sir! Come on, traffic is finally clearing up. Let's go!"

Doing his best to ignore the shamefully suggestive music on the radio, Jack thankfully drove past the accident, and turned down two more streets without incident.

"Carter, is that what I think it is up ahead?"

She sighed, still tapping her feet to the music. "Yes, sir. It's a detour sign."

He shook his head in disbelief. Like rats in a maze. *Someone up there has a really sick sense of humor.*

* * * *



End Notes: All the songs quoted were used without permission from the artists.
Forgive me? They are:
"Obsession" by Animotion
"I touch myself" by the Divinyls
"Horny" by Chef Aid
"Faded" by SoulSurvivor
"Why don't we get drunk" by Jimmy Buffett.

Also, the Tom Clancy book quoted is "The Sum of All Fears."

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