Aerospace
Title: Aerospace
Author: ardvari
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Sam/Jack
Disclaimer: Not mine.
A/N: Inspired by four years of regular plane travel from Europe to North America. I'd imagine Jack wouldn't do too well with eight hours of sitting still.
Aerospace
These probably were the longest eight hours of his life. He wasn’t very good at sitting still and doing nothing, and couldn’t understand why The Simpsons weren’t in the airline’s repertoire of all-time-favorite TV shows. He’d suffered through three episodes of Golden Girls instead and had been staring at the map tracking their progress across the Atlantic for the past hour and a half.
The worst thing was that he couldn’t even complain to anyone about his predicament. Sam had dropped off to sleep the moment the plane had taken off. During one short spurt of consciousness she’d reclined her chair all the way, thank God for business class seats, and had since been blissfully unaware of the world around her.
She’d stolen his pillow, too, and her blonde head was half-buried beneath one of those synthetic excuses for a blanket. He hadn’t woken her up for supper, cringing at the fish’s fishy taste while sipping beer; the beverage being the only thing he’d experienced in what felt like a very long time. At least the Irish Coast was growing larger, and the screen told him he’d only have to suffer through this flight for another four hours.
Why he’d agreed to fly to Paris with her was beyond him. Actually… well, he knew why he’d agreed to go with her, because she’d asked and it was Paris after all. The city of love. And yet she’d be stuck in meetings all week and eight hours of his life were currently being taken from him irreversibly, and if he was honest with himself, very honest, he was prejudiced when it came to the French.
Sam mumbled in her sleep, barely audible over the roar of the plane. She turned from her side to her stomach, her face emerging from beneath the blanket. He couldn’t resist, had to reach out to brush a few strands of blonde hair away from her face. A smile fluttered across her lips but she didn’t wake up.
One of the flight attendants walked by, holding out a tray full of plastic cups filled with water to him. The guy looked a little like a shorter, older version of Ba’al, which had made Sam roll her eyes at him when he’d mentioned it to her. Taking a cup of water from the tray, Jack nodded to the man. The cold water felt good, though in the grand scheme of things he was still miserable. Bored. He wanted something to fidget with, wanted her to work on her laptop so he could pester her until she unleashed an avalanche of techno babble on him. He could “Carter” her, and from experience and his grand observational skills he knew she’d indulge him then, would talk to him for a while about… fishing and Europe and maybe, if he was lucky, sex.
This sleeping routine was new, maybe a defense tactic. He knew how hard she worked and that she deserved to rest. Obviously she needed it. He drowned the rest of hiss water, resigned himself to another episode of Golden Girls and eventually left his seat in search of the lavatory.
By the time he returned to his seat, a disheveled Sam blinked up at him and smiled.
“Hi,” she mouthed, apparently lacking the energy to try and raise her voice over the general cacophony of the plane.
“Thank God you’re awake,” he answered, flopping back down into the seat beside her.
She giggled, rolled over, and pressed the button to raise her chair into an upright position again. Of course he’d played with all the buttons before the plane had even taken off, earning him a few dirty looks from the flight attendants.
“Bored?” she asked, half-turned in her seat so she could take in his rumpled appearance.
“Ya think?” he shot back, giving her one of his patented looks.
She smirked, tried to stifle a yawn and leaned her head against the headrest. His behavior had been predictable from the start, and she’d been a little surprised when he’d agreed to go with her. After all, she was going to Paris for work, and he could have gone to the cabin with Landry instead.
“How long was I out?”
“Little over four hours. I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone sleep as well on a plane as you do.” He reached over to steal his pillow back, stuffing it between the seat and his lower back where, he was sure, he’d be sore by the time they got to Paris.
“Old man,” she teased affectionately, her eyes sparkling when he glared at her.
“I’ll have you know Carter, I’m only here because of you,” he reminded her.
Maybe if he made her feel guilty she’d massage his back later, way later, at the hotel. Then again, judging by the look on her face he wouldn’t even have to go that far. He knew what it meant to her to have him tag along.
“Y’know… other people actually have sex on airplanes,” she stated playfully.
She was way too perky and definitely three steps ahead of him. He was at a disadvantage, he’d suffered through bad, very bad TV while she’d been off in dreamland.
“Yeah, that’s not gonna happen,” he snorted, adding unfortunately to the sentence in his head.
She laughed then, the kind of laugh he aimed to coax out of her daily.
“Jack… thanks for coming along. I really do appreciate it,” she said, serious again.
She reached out a hand, laced her fingers through his and squeezed gently.
“Anytime.” He winked at her, pulling her closer until their lips met over the center armrest.
Maybe the next four hours wouldn’t be so bad after all.
Author: ardvari
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Sam/Jack
Disclaimer: Not mine.
A/N: Inspired by four years of regular plane travel from Europe to North America. I'd imagine Jack wouldn't do too well with eight hours of sitting still.
Aerospace
These probably were the longest eight hours of his life. He wasn’t very good at sitting still and doing nothing, and couldn’t understand why The Simpsons weren’t in the airline’s repertoire of all-time-favorite TV shows. He’d suffered through three episodes of Golden Girls instead and had been staring at the map tracking their progress across the Atlantic for the past hour and a half.
The worst thing was that he couldn’t even complain to anyone about his predicament. Sam had dropped off to sleep the moment the plane had taken off. During one short spurt of consciousness she’d reclined her chair all the way, thank God for business class seats, and had since been blissfully unaware of the world around her.
She’d stolen his pillow, too, and her blonde head was half-buried beneath one of those synthetic excuses for a blanket. He hadn’t woken her up for supper, cringing at the fish’s fishy taste while sipping beer; the beverage being the only thing he’d experienced in what felt like a very long time. At least the Irish Coast was growing larger, and the screen told him he’d only have to suffer through this flight for another four hours.
Why he’d agreed to fly to Paris with her was beyond him. Actually… well, he knew why he’d agreed to go with her, because she’d asked and it was Paris after all. The city of love. And yet she’d be stuck in meetings all week and eight hours of his life were currently being taken from him irreversibly, and if he was honest with himself, very honest, he was prejudiced when it came to the French.
Sam mumbled in her sleep, barely audible over the roar of the plane. She turned from her side to her stomach, her face emerging from beneath the blanket. He couldn’t resist, had to reach out to brush a few strands of blonde hair away from her face. A smile fluttered across her lips but she didn’t wake up.
One of the flight attendants walked by, holding out a tray full of plastic cups filled with water to him. The guy looked a little like a shorter, older version of Ba’al, which had made Sam roll her eyes at him when he’d mentioned it to her. Taking a cup of water from the tray, Jack nodded to the man. The cold water felt good, though in the grand scheme of things he was still miserable. Bored. He wanted something to fidget with, wanted her to work on her laptop so he could pester her until she unleashed an avalanche of techno babble on him. He could “Carter” her, and from experience and his grand observational skills he knew she’d indulge him then, would talk to him for a while about… fishing and Europe and maybe, if he was lucky, sex.
This sleeping routine was new, maybe a defense tactic. He knew how hard she worked and that she deserved to rest. Obviously she needed it. He drowned the rest of hiss water, resigned himself to another episode of Golden Girls and eventually left his seat in search of the lavatory.
By the time he returned to his seat, a disheveled Sam blinked up at him and smiled.
“Hi,” she mouthed, apparently lacking the energy to try and raise her voice over the general cacophony of the plane.
“Thank God you’re awake,” he answered, flopping back down into the seat beside her.
She giggled, rolled over, and pressed the button to raise her chair into an upright position again. Of course he’d played with all the buttons before the plane had even taken off, earning him a few dirty looks from the flight attendants.
“Bored?” she asked, half-turned in her seat so she could take in his rumpled appearance.
“Ya think?” he shot back, giving her one of his patented looks.
She smirked, tried to stifle a yawn and leaned her head against the headrest. His behavior had been predictable from the start, and she’d been a little surprised when he’d agreed to go with her. After all, she was going to Paris for work, and he could have gone to the cabin with Landry instead.
“How long was I out?”
“Little over four hours. I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone sleep as well on a plane as you do.” He reached over to steal his pillow back, stuffing it between the seat and his lower back where, he was sure, he’d be sore by the time they got to Paris.
“Old man,” she teased affectionately, her eyes sparkling when he glared at her.
“I’ll have you know Carter, I’m only here because of you,” he reminded her.
Maybe if he made her feel guilty she’d massage his back later, way later, at the hotel. Then again, judging by the look on her face he wouldn’t even have to go that far. He knew what it meant to her to have him tag along.
“Y’know… other people actually have sex on airplanes,” she stated playfully.
She was way too perky and definitely three steps ahead of him. He was at a disadvantage, he’d suffered through bad, very bad TV while she’d been off in dreamland.
“Yeah, that’s not gonna happen,” he snorted, adding unfortunately to the sentence in his head.
She laughed then, the kind of laugh he aimed to coax out of her daily.
“Jack… thanks for coming along. I really do appreciate it,” she said, serious again.
She reached out a hand, laced her fingers through his and squeezed gently.
“Anytime.” He winked at her, pulling her closer until their lips met over the center armrest.
Maybe the next four hours wouldn’t be so bad after all.