Title: The Proper Care and Maintenance of Your Favorite Carter

Author: nanda (nanda@diary-x.com)

Rating: NC-17 (explicit sex, language, nekkidness)

Codes 'n Stuff: Sam/Jack fluff/smut/futurefic

Archive: SJD yes; all others please ask first.

Season/Spoilers: Futurefic. Mentions of Thor, Sara, Charlie, and the cabin invites. If none of that means anything to you, you, uh, might be spoiled.

Status: Complete (1/1)

Feedback: Any and all welcomed.

Disclaimer: Not mine, no profit.

Summary: He's getting really good at some, uh, things.

A/N: I try to write angst. I try and I try and ... well. They're really just not interested. Sigh. They did manage to discuss at least one important thing this time, though. Don't ask me how they fit it in. Actually does have a plot.

Takes place in the same universe as Bad, Better Than Television, and The First Annual Stanley Cup Naughty Stakes, but you don't have to have read those.

Thanks: Dia and Jojo.

This story is also on the web all pretty and stuff at http://www.angstnromance.net/nanda/fic/sg1/nanda_maintenance.html

***

The Proper Care and Maintenance of Your Favorite Carter
by nanda (nanda@diary-x.com)

His first mistake was rolling over.

His second, apparently, was throwing an arm over her hips.

He'd been asleep for both, but he really didn't expect that to work in his defense.

"Ugh. Jack, it's too hot," she said as she picked up his hand and dropped it on the bed.

"Huh?" He squinted open his eyes, and that was his third mistake. For about one-one-thousandth of a second, he was sure Thor, with classic Asgard timing, had dropped by for a visit.

But no, it was just the lamp on her side of the bed. She was propped up on two pillows, reading -- something for work, he was sure. He'd given up the fight to convince her to leave it all at home; he'd pretty much had to drag her out of Colorado as it was.

He blinked, blinded for a moment. Then he noticed that she had just a little corner of the sheet drawn across her hips, and the hem of her beige cotton panties peeking out. (She had a lot of beige cotton lingerie, he'd noticed lately. He was sure there used to be more colors ...) Her bare legs stretched down the bed. And though he could have sworn she'd had on one of those strappy tank top things when they'd gone to bed (a pink one, maybe?), she was now very naked except for the undies and the sheet.

He rubbed a sleepy hand over his eyes. "Why are you still up? God, what time is it?"

"Late. And it's too hot to sleep." A moment later, and a little petulantly: "Why don't you have air conditioning up here?"

"Because it only gets like this about two days a year. The house'll cool off a bit by morning." He'd turned on all the fans and opened all the windows the minute they'd arrived, but there wasn't much more he could do. It was very warm, and humid, too, but he'd grown up hereabouts; it had never bothered him.

"Mmm," she said, frowning, and turned a page. Yup, a report of something or other, classified, naturally, and propped up on her stomach.

He stretched a little; the fifteen-hour drive always left his back stiff. He should probably be annoyed with her -- she was being annoying -- but he couldn't work up the energy. Besides, it just charmed the pants off him when she got like this (okay, he wasn't technically wearing pants, just some boxers, but whatever). They'd stopped being on their best behavior around each other, relaxed a little, and ... he kind of liked it. She wasn't his good little second-in-command anymore, she was Sam, and he liked Sam a hell of a lot -- even when she was being a pain in the ass.

God knew he was a pain in the ass himself most of the time.

And then there was the fact that her breasts were very strategically placed -- right in front of his eyes. Creamy white, and rosy just where they should be rosy ... okay, strictly speaking there was an arm between him and them, but the arm didn't look bad, either. And while he knew she hadn't really done any strategic placing, it was definitely a nice view. Even if she had woken him up in the middle of the night.

"Doesn't the light bulb only increase the ambient temperature in the room?" he asked, knowing he was looking for trouble.

Another frown, quickly turned into an upwards quirk of her lips when she realized he was giving her a hard time. "By a fraction of a degree, yes."

"How much?"

"You want the math?"

"Yes, please."

"You promise to go buy an air conditioner tomorrow?"

"No," he said, grinning.

She rolled her eyes and batted away his hand, which had made an attempt on the nearest inviting piece of skin. "Jack, go back to sleep. I'm sorry I woke you."

"We've camped in worse places."

"It's different," she said, fully turning her head to face him.

"Because you can complain now?"

"Among other -- Jack!" This time he'd managed to reach her breast unnoticed. "I told you, it's too hot."

He flattened his hand on the mattress and sighed dramatically. "You can't just flaunt those things right in front of me and expect me not to notice. I am still a guy, you know."

Ah, finally -- a nice, big smile. Reluctant, but still a smile. "Those things?" she repeated, arching an eyebrow.

"They're very nice things."

She shook her head, the way she did when she thought he was being annoyingly adorable (which was a lot), and leaned over to drop a kiss in his hair. "Go back to sleep," she said again, more gently this time.

"If the heat doesn't break tomorrow I'll go to Home Depot and buy an air conditioner for the bedroom. So you can sleep." Oh! Nice, evil thought! "And I can touch the things."

She giggled. It was very rewarding. So he closed his eyes, tried to fall back asleep -- and was suddenly fully aware of the heat in the room. Damp, heavy, oppressive air, still stale from the house being closed up even though the fans had now been on for hours. Her fault, of course, that he'd even noticed; he'd always been able to sleep through any kind of weather.

And she was still wide awake, and whining, too, and if she didn't get any sleep she'd be even whinier tomorrow. Yeah, temperamental Sam was still cute, but he didn't want to push his luck.

So he threw off the sheet, grabbed her hand, and tugged.

"Wha ... ?" She didn't really resist, and he heard the report fall to the floor.

"Come on." He dragged her through the open bedroom door and down the hall.

"Where are you -- Jack! I can't go outside like this!"

If he rolled his eyes any more he'd sprain something. "Who's gonna see you? City folk, I swear."

"Oh. Right. I forgot." And for a few seconds he didn't have to pull her with him; she walked quite happily out onto the deck and up to the edge of the lake. There was no beach to speak of, just grass sloping down to the water.

"Watch your feet," he said. "There're some rocks."

She followed him in, smiling brightly. And then ... "The bottom is all squishy." He could tell she was trying to walk delicately so the mud wouldn't get between her toes. (Delicately? Carter?)

"Well, aren't we Miss High Maintenance?" He stopped and turned to face her as he spoke, but didn't let go of her hand.

"I am not high maintenance," she insisted, predictably ... though she also wrinkled her nose a little when she looked down at her feet.

"You are today," he grinned. "It's too hot, I can't sleep, the ground's squishy, oh -- and, are we there yet?"

She grinned back. "That one was a joke."

"I know it was." He pulled her further into the water so he could kiss her, and she came to him easily, pressing her body against his -- and screeching when he bent over to pick her up.

"Hey! Put me down!"

He kept walking. "Nope. Sorry."

She was laughing aloud now, making a show of wrestling with him, but she still sucked in a deep breath before he dunked her. She came up moments later, still laughing, and tackled him; he was only too happy to lose his balance and slide underwater with her.

Damn, this was fun.

Sam was brushing wet hair out of her eyes. He took off his now sodden shorts and tossed them onto the dock, and she grinned widely as she followed his lead. The beige panties curved in a graceful arc to land right next to his. Jack couldn't help but whistle. "Nice arm," he said.

She gifted him with a little, soft smile, and then ... swam away. Huh. Somehow that was not what he'd expected. But he managed to retain enough self-respect to keep from pouting and asking, hey, where ya goin'?

He followed her a little way, until he knew he could no longer touch the bottom, and then just tread water, watching her. She had a gorgeous backstroke, he noted. And it had nothing to do with the dim glimpses it gave him of ... the things.

Things. Heh.

She didn't go far; after a few slow minutes she disappeared under the surface and popped back up, heading towards him now in a comfortable crawl. Not wanting her to see him staring (though he was sure she already had) he moved to float on his back. There were no stars, but the clouds were heavy and low enough to reflect some light. He could just make out the shoreline in all directions (possibly helped by the fact that he'd known this lake his entire life) and could pretty clearly see the dock and the cabin, with the one light still on in the bedroom. Cricket song came at him from all angles.

When she reached him she rolled onto her back as well, ending up at a right angle to him. She kicked at his feet playfully. He kicked back.

"This is nice," she said with a sigh. "You do have good ideas occasionally."

"Occasionally," he agreed. "Feeling better?"

"Oh yeah. Feels great." There was just the tiniest hint of suggestiveness in her voice. Sweet.

She didn't seem able to stay still in the water for too long. She could do really nice somersaults, though. And he didn't even mind when she submerged and he felt a tug on his leg, pulling him under.

Finally they settled on their backs again, arms waving slightly to stay afloat.

"You know, if you'd mentioned this part earlier, I might have come up here years ago."

He chuckled. "Uh-huh. Sure you would."

She splashed him.

"You ever done this before?"

She had to think about it. Then she laughed. "God, I'd forgotten," she said. "At my last high school. I was friends with these two sisters, a year apart. Their yard had this high fence around the pool ... in the summer, when all of our parents were at work, we took our suits off a few times. Six or seven of us, I think. And it wasn't until months later that we found out ..."

He could so hear the punchline coming. "The boys were spying on you, weren't they?"

Sam kept laughing as she spoke, remembering. "They had drilled holes in the fence. And they took turns keeping watch, just in case." More water splashed at him. "I should really be disturbed that you guessed that. You are such a guy sometimes."

He splashed back. "I happen to think that's a point in my favor."

"Most of the time," she said dryly ... leading them straight into a quick splash war.

When they calmed down again she was quiet for a minute. It was a cliché, but he really could almost hear her thinking. She was Carter; she never stopped thinking. (The truth was that he never did, either, but he was pretty sure her thoughts were ... bigger.)

"You and Sara must have," Sam said finally. "Here, I mean."

He had to think about that, too. "Yeah, I guess we did. Before Charlie was born."

They fell silent again, but not uncomfortably. Sam understood about Charlie. He wished they'd met, which was crazy, of course, because of Sara, but there it was. Charlie would have liked Sam. But then, Sam and Sara, though not exactly friends, got along just fine, too. He suspected the two of them had compared notes on him, more than once, and he really didn't want to know what had been said.

Her voice eventually interrupted his strange little line of thought. "Jack. Do you ever want to have more kids?"

Huh. Wasn't he supposed to panic when a woman asked him a question like that? That was in the guy rules somewhere, right? He didn't feel like panicking. At all. For one thing, he'd known his answer for ages.

And actually, she seemed pretty calm, too. Cool.

"I'd love to," he said. "But it's not a deal breaker."

"And that means ... ?"

Okay. He could spell it out, if she wanted to hear it. "It means that it's more about raising them with the right person than procreating for the sense of ... procreating."

He sort of expected her to laugh, but she didn't. "I want to," she said quietly. "With the right person. But I'm not sure I'll ever be able to ... put it first. You know?"

He did. Career and family was always difficult, as he knew only too well; family and the SGC ... they really might be mutually exclusive.

He shrugged, even though he knew she couldn't see. "Well, you know, if, say, you were to procreate with somebody who's already retired ..." This time she did laugh, and splashed him again. "They'd be adorable, our kids," he said. "Hypothetically."

"They'd be little demons."

"Oh yeah. Like their mom."

He didn't even have to look to know that it was one of her big, bright smiles. "Absolutely," she said.

He smirked. "High maintenance ..."

"Okay, that's it." She sort of leapt at him, dragging him under the water. This time he fought back and pulled her down, too.

He surfaced to the sound of her laugh. Damn, this was fun.

But suddenly it was ... more than just fun, and they were facing each other, their legs occasionally touching as they kissed very, very slowly.

And then Sam somehow wrapped herself around him, all arms and legs, leaving him to tread water for two while her tongue dove into his mouth ... and he forgot what he was doing and they both sank. And the underwater kissing ... oooh.

He'd never really thought before about how inconvenient this whole breathing thing was. They came up for air and quickly came together again, her hands sliding around his hips and their mouths working frantically. When he took hold of her breasts she moaned happily against his lips and pulled him underwater again.

"We should ... take this inside," he said a little breathlessly, once they'd resurfaced.

"Too hot."

"Aaahhhh ... Carter ...."

"Who's gonna see us, city boy?"

"Oh, you are so ..." He couldn't finish that sentence. For one thing, he had to keep kissing her. For another, she had started swimming backwards, tugging him along by the lips. Holy crap. The woman was a freaking mermaid, only with legs. How had he not known this?

Then again, maybe he'd been better off not knowing this.

When she pulled herself up onto the dock all he could do was hope that he would never, ever forget the sight of her slipping out of the water, arm muscles flexed and little rivulets sliding down her skin. Never. Not even when he was old and senile and couldn't remember his own name -- this he wanted to remember. On his dock. On his dock. Where he ... oh, God. He might never be able to fully relax with his fishing rod and tackle box again and he really didn't care.

He followed her. Of course he did. Sat close enough beside her, their legs hanging over the edge and their feet dangling in the water, that he could watch her skin break out in goose bumps despite the heat, and her nipples rise into the night air.

She let him kiss her exactly once before she pulled back with an evil grin and grasped his hands.

The next thing he knew he was lying on his back (hey, that helped the stiffness, actually) and she was kneeling behind him. He really didn't know how she had managed that (as was often the case with him and Carter), but when she let go his hands for a second to shove their wet underwear out of her way, he was prepared.

"Ah!" She stilled his wrists and bent over him. "No touching!"

Oh, now that was just cruel. She kissed him upside down and he couldn't move his arms and if he tilted his head back just the tiniest bit there were her breasts, suspended in front of his eyes. Perfect, perfect breasts. Perfect, lovely breasts that he wasn't allowed to touch. No fair.

"Sam ... "

"Who's in charge here?" She rasped against his throat; supple flesh brushed the top of his head and he nearly swallowed his tongue.

"Nnngg," he said. Sort of. "Obviously not me."

"Smart man."

"That's what they tell ... holy crap ... "

She was sucking on his shoulder, and her wet hair fell across his face. Oh, Jesus. She smelled of the lake, a smell he had loved for as long as he could remember, and he knew his hands were very close to the part of her he most wanted to reach, and the part of him that most wanted to reach it twitched in happy frustration.

Then her mouth descended on his again and hey, this upside down thing was pretty hot. He was moaning helplessly, and he didn't care, and he knew she was watching his growing erection -- he could tell by the way she smiled against his lips -- and he didn't care about that, either. He just didn't want her to stop.

On his dock. They were on his dock. His very favorite place in the world ... oh, God.

And then she ... stopped. Oh no. Stopping was very bad. He tried to follow her lips but she was already moving beside him, sort of crawling towards his ... yeah. He grinned, sure he knew what was coming -- and very sure he was really gonna enjoy it -- but she, uh, kept going.

He raised his head, a little concerned. "Sam? Whatcha doin'?"

She just shushed him. And before his brain had a chance to connect the dots, she'd straddled his hips, caught his cock with her fingers, and sunk down onto him ... all while still facing the water. Oh ... oh, wow.

"Nnngg," he said again, his head slamming back down on the wooden planks. So, so tight. And the view he got of her behind ... screw the no touching rule. He just had to touch that. No matter what she said. Right hand over here, left hand over there ...

Either he was really enjoying the not-in-charge thing, or she'd already managed to kill off a few of his few brain cells, because it didn't occur to him to sit up until she reached for his hands and pulled. Hey, he thought through his hormonal haze, good idea. She wrapped his arms around her waist and .... oh, now this, this was a nice view. He was just enough taller than she was that he could put his chin on her shoulder and look ... heh.

"Now can I touch the things?"

She groaned. "Yes, Jack, now you can touch the things. You know, you're really lucky I put up with you."

"Yes," he said, turning to bury his lips in the crook of her neck. "I am." And her perfect breasts fit just perfectly in his hands. And he could watch. Wow. A Sam's-eye view.

She spread her legs wide over his, hooking her feet behind his calves to get some leverage ... and reached between his thighs so she could cradle his balls in one hand. Holy. Fucking. Shit.

He couldn't move very much, in this position, and she didn't move very much. She really liked that, he knew, just being kind of still with him inside her. It worked her up faster than any pumping and grinding. He was pretty proud of himself for figuring that out, though it had taken a while. And anyway it helped him hold out longer, sometimes. (Not that he needed help with that very often, or anything.)

Her hips shifted minutely against his, her tiny movements like wildfire to his groin. She clenched around him, rhythmically, repeatedly. Oh yeah. Jack had no complaints.

"This good for you?" she breathed, her head fell onto his shoulder. And the way she was arching her back ... oh, that had to hurt. Well, it would hurt him, anyway, but Sam, thank God, was not him.

"I thought you were the one in charge," he said.

"Yes, well. I'm benevolent."

Four syllables. In the middle of really hot sex. Really hot outside-on-his-dock sex. His teeth found the still-wet skin of her ear and he caught one stiff nipple between his short fingernails. "You're fucking amazing, is what you are."

"Mmm. That too." She captured one of his hands and directed it downwards. He somehow still had enough sense to take the hint.

"Not modest, though."

"It really helps that someone keeps telling me ... ohhhh, yes, like that, like that ..."

He couldn't quite see their bodies merging, but he could see his own fingers exploring and prodding and rubbing and that in itself was pretty damn sexy. His thumb circled her clitoris, his fingers slid from her wetness to the base of his own cock and back again, and his balls were still cupped in the palm of her hand.

He found himself murmuring her name into her neck. "Samsamsamsamsam ..." She was moving faster now, her ass against his belly, and her breath was coming in heavy little gasps. His free hand grazed her pelvic bone and he increased the pressure on her clit -- three fingers, quick and chaotic, beyond his conscious control.

"Sam. Come on, come for me ..."

"Oh, God, yesyesyes ..."

She let out a long, harsh sigh and convulsed around him, her entire body shuddering in his arms. And moments later she began using her legs to bounce in his lap, her aftershocks massaging his cock in warm, heavenly pulses. He moved his hands to her hips to help her out (up, down, up, oh God, yes), her skin slapped against his, and it was only a few seconds before he was lost himself. His eyes simultaneously rolled back and slammed shut, his brain filling with a burst of light; his arms turned to jello and his lungs choked out her name.

Sam melted back into him, one hand coming up to hold his head close to her skin. She sighed happily and he couldn't help but echo the sound as he nuzzled her neck.

"Never get enough of you," she murmured. He tightened his grip on her waist, not quite able to respond yet.

A hot breeze blew through the nearby pines and momentarily silenced the crickets. Sam shifted wordlessly to a more comfortable position, sitting almost sideways in his lap. Her skin was sticky against him but she wasn't complaining, now.

Note to self: whiny Carter cured by skinny dipping, especially when it led to sex.

And speaking of (well, thinking of) skinny dipping ...

"Another swim?" he asked.

"Mmmm. In a minute."

But his legs were starting to fall asleep, and his back was sore again, and ... okay, he really just wanted to be evil.

He tossed her into the lake.

"I cannot believe you just did that!" she sputtered, laughing, and immediately grabbed his leg ... leaving him a choice of jumping in after her or doing serious damage to his backside.

"Jeez, Carter," he said when they were facing each other above the water, "I think I got a splinter in my ass. Hey! That's not funny." He smiled anyway, though.

"Oh, yes, it is." She wrapped her arms around his neck and leaned her forehead against his.

"Think you can sleep now?"

"Maybe a little. What time is it?"

He dragged his left arm out of the water and checked. "Uh ... almost 4:30."

"Ugh."

"Maybe I'll let you sleep in," he said. "I've got a little errand to run as soon as the stores open anyway."

"Thank you," she said quietly a few moments later.

"For the air conditioner?"

Sweet little Carter-smile ... "No, Jack."

"For the monkey sex?"

Bigger smile. "No, Jack. Come on. Let's go inside."

He let her lead him towards the house. And a few minutes later, when they had found towels and dried off and climbed back in (okay, on) the bed, he couldn't help but smile as she drifted towards sleep, one finger just touching his arm.

***

fin.

"C'mon Daisy don't drown me this time." ~ CW

Soundtrack: Djammel Hammadi, Shabaz, Transglobal Underground, Abdel Ali Slimani, and a little bit of Jackdaw.