Killing the Canary by atheniandream

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Story Notes: Got bored, and decided to write, whala!

atheniandream/Jawbreakerchick/Paisleychick, my alter egos :)

Email: atheniandream@aol.com

Killing the Canary

What a way to let your hair down...

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The dreaded DAY-OFF. Downtime. The rest that they'd been waiting for. Whatever. It was still a day off. After all their hard work and dedication to the world over the last 6 months, they'd been pleading (Especially the Colonel to no one's surprise) for a cherished, adored, fully sympathetic REST. However,

It was beginning to get a tad tedious.

No Grey Pebble dashed lab to sit, where she could loose herself under a cascading mound of paper work, or what she like to call the work-that-Colonel-Johnathon-O'Neill-couldn't-be-bothered-to-do-and-decided- to-pawn-all-off-on-his-gullable-2IC-by-way-of-a-, and DAMN IT, sexy grin. What was worse was that she gave in, but that didn't matter.

Samantha Carter was still sat in an empty house, CLEANING. Today of all Saturdays she'd been forced to submit to the spring clean of her life, and decided that considering, 'the boys' had gone for a bonding session by way of a Baseball game, and in pure male testosterone fashion, she'd been in dis-invitied, if god forbid there were such a thing. She could still remember their conversation, just because it was rubbing against the part of brain marked 'Annoying' and 'Men'....

"So what are you guys doing this weekend?"

It was just a casual Question, ya know?

"Uh Sam. Hi. We're uh, going to a Ball-"

Was he nervous? She couldn't' help but notice how he choked on the last word, and how convenient it had been for at that exact moment, the Colonel had come to stand right behind him, giving himself room to reach and prospectively pinch enough of Daniels skin to make him-

Squeeeeeeeeeeeellllllllll-"Nothing! We're doing nothing. Nothing at all." His voice must have reached an extra dog-worthy octave, just because it rang in her ears for more than a matter of seconds.

It also earned him a really dirty look for the Colonel.

"Carter. WE? Are doing absolutely, nothing! We have to go. Daniel..."

Almost Barking out the last word, the Colonel quickly escorted Daniel out of her way leaving her to wonder why Teal'c appeared to be squirming. Like, Really squirming. Or about as 'squirmy' as a Jaffa could get with a piece of metal stuck to his forehead.

"Teal'c? Where are you guys going?" In hope that she could trust Teal'c, and probed him further. And For the first time, she realised. Minus the Jaffa, he was just a man, just like the rest. And she should have known. After all, Jack 'had' taught him well. "I divulge nothing."

The Bastards.

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She'd later found out by way of a gossiping insider (Janet), that the three of them had booked a testosterone induced 'male bonding session', which among other things included seeing a ball game. Suddenly and almost 'out of the blue', the words 'Minus', 'Carter' and 'Canucks' came to mind...

So, going back a previous point. She'd turned-to THE spring clean. And again she was bored. Really goddamn, 'chew your leg off and throw at an old lady' B.O.R.E.D.

In fact she'd only just managed to wash everything minus her hair, before deciding that her life was just small and insignificant enough to wear yesterday's pyjama top in a marginally respectful baby blue, and accompany it with old pair of jeans which somewhere between a hot day and bottle of wine in the summer of 95', she'd ripped or rather slashed the pant-legs and waist band off to make a really fetching pair of frayed hot pants. Nice. We're not even gonna talk about the bed-hair. Nuh-uh.

After all, she was going to clean the entire house, and that always included, sweeping, mopping, hovering, bending, kneeling and all the other necessary moves. She'd also remembered that another essential ingredient to a successful house clean would be:

Music.

Something, Melodic, rhythmic and insightful. Something able to bring a fluid aid, to move the pulse of her cleaning and draw her into a world where music and passion go hand in hand (Yea Right) Actually, it did help. Well, to add a more interesting aspect to the task that won't make her fall asleep...

Her hands scanned the top of her CD collection, letting her fingers curve around each one to read the accompanying spine.

Over the last thirty years, she had taken it upon herself to collect as many CDs as possible and had even signed up to a 'CD monthly' club in which you would for the sparkly price of $39.95, receive 5 of the latest CD releases in your specified musical genres through the post each month. Her attention turned to each CD, the first, the second, third, fourth, fifth, and Six following many including Justin Timberlake (It was Cassie's), Madonna, U2, Missy Elliot, Miles Davis, Kylie Minogue, and about every other embarrassing pop artist or group over the last decade.

Yep. A decade. That must add up to at least a house worth of plastic...

However, one CD looked immediately alien.

"Janet's Sixty's Mix?"

What the hell?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"BOOGIE NIGHTS!!" She bellowed.

She had to admit that it was actually quite good. The songs were outdated, and cheesy, and it brought a tear to her eye once YMCA hit the SoundBlaster, but oddly enough the song had this rhythm that made her want to brake into an 80's song and dance number.

First it was the hips.

The beat to 'Strut your funky stuff' resonated louder out of the nearest speaker barely hanging on the wall as she cleaned around the bookshelf in the lounge.

And the oddest thing started to occur. She was dancing.

Well, her hips were wiggling to the rhythm but never before had she thought of it as dancing. Dancing would require strategically places dance moves, choreographing in to a beautifully mesmerising display. His was more of a gigue. Yep, it was definitely a gigue.

And as her waist moved and the pink feather duster followed her wrist, so then did the rest of her body.

She tapped her toes on the edge of the mantle piece as her feet started to pick up the beat, which meant the her legs had to follow, carefully following in a box step as she moved around the room.

The CD changed.

Oh yeah.

Three words: Earth. Wind. And Fire.

Suddenly she didn't know whether it was the trill of the music downing her glass of wine perched on the kitchen counter or her, but she felt a sudden lack of feeling, care and frustration.

"Shake your body down!"

Her arms, now in full swing with the body as she used the end of the duster like a microphone, started to par-take in some serious clubbing moves, and she hadn't danced in any club like atmosphere for a WHILE to say the least. It did NOT however, mean that she couldn't dance if she wanted to, despite her few experiences. And except for that one brief and uneasy mission to a certain planet, where it consisted of both her and Colonel getting down to some seriously heavy, grinding dance-like activity.... UHhhhh...and Daniel and Teal'c were uh, somewhere far, far away and that's the story.

"Shaft, he's bad mother. Shut your mouth!" Oh. DEAR. Lord.

Song after song, and the spring clean idea was a thing of the past, and in the oddly hot spring of Colorado a semi drunk Carter participated in the dance of her life.

Or rather an Ass Swinging, Pink Feather duster toting, Belly jiggling Navel bearing, Wine drinking- "Can ya diggit?" Carter.

Oddly, through the plethora of 60's hits and misses, She'd failed to notice the knocking on the door.

"You make me feel like dancing,"

And the key turning in the lock.

"I wanna dance the night away!"

And the door opening,

"You make me feel like dancing,"

And several figures stepping through the doorway.

"Wooah! Wooah!"

And the sound of "Sam! We're sorry, we brought sustenance," a Man's voice.

"Get up! Stand up. Strut your funky stuff, shut up!"

"And Pizza!" Followed by another.

"Get up! Stand up. Strut your funky stuff, shut up!"

"Carter!! For Cryin' out loud, we're Sor-"

"Get up! Stand up. Strut your funky-ARGH!"

Oh Shit.

Carter. Hot pants. Pink duster. Pink Feather duster. And uh...

"Sam?"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After more than enough welcoming silence, it was starting to get odd. Finally out of the three of them, Jack had the courage to speak first.

"We felt bad...uh, that we uh, left you...But we can see that you uh.... Hmm. Carter. You seem to have a...well,"

"Sam, you have, appeared to have slipped uuummm....'OUT'"

At that moment. She didn't even looked down. Or say anything. Very calmly, she closed her eyes.

Holy Crap.

"Nice Rack Carter."

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End Notes: WARNING: Always Hmm. 'Accustom' ones self appropriately around people that intent to see more than once. At least when you take your clothes off for the first time and realise that you 'drop to the floor', it will be a better.........quality surprise.

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