6 Stargate Fics I've Written That I Actually Like!
Title: Lil' Kiss
Summary: When Restraining Sam in 'The Broca Divide', Jack just couldn't help one lil' kiss…
Pairing: Sam/Jack
Warning: First SG-1 fic!
Reviews: Please pretty please
Disclaimer: Haven't quite got the rights to the show yet. I'm working on it, but until then I OWN NOTHING!
It was obvious she wasn't acting herself. Miss Rules and Regulations was kissing him, in the men's locker room. Not that he particularly minded but… she wasn't acting herself.
"Don't you want me!" she whispered before again kissing him, with so much passion he found it hard not to respond.
Focus Jack. "No, not like this." He tried to say against her mouth, only really managing to get the last bit out. The last bit being the part that should have been left out, pretty much a confession that he did want her. Obviously he had to do something. Rolling her off the bench they had somehow ended lying on they hit the floor with a thud, bringing them impossibly closer. Looking at her in what he had mentally dubbed 'her cute little tank top number' he found resisting her very hard. He could very well just let himself go and ravish her as he wanted to since they first met. Or he could be responsible. He hated being responsible. Pulling away from her he managed to utter "I think it's time for you to see a doctor, Doctor." Pulling away further he couldn't help but allow himself a consolation prize as her smooth neck lay before him and he planted one lil' kiss.
Title: Paperwork
Fandom: Stargate SG-1
Prompt: Crumpled Paper
Warnings: Minor spoilers for Divide and Conquer and Death Knoll
Rating: Teen
Summary: Sam comes across something interesting doing Jack's paperwork. What follows? Romance!
Upon first entering Colonel Jack O'Neill's office you would assume it was a badly organised storage room. This false assumption is due to the fact that Colonel Jack O'Neill does not do paperwork. Ever. There are several betting pools running on whether he actually knows he has an office. Samantha Carter peered into the office and gasped at the enormity of the task she considered undertaking. For his birthday she was going to do his paperwork for him. Something she was now seriously reconsidering. Jeeze…escaping Anubis's Super-soldier looks easier than doing all this.
Not knowing where to begin she started with the garbage: over flowing with crumpled paper, and picking up yet more paper from around the office. She also noticed that none of the scraps of paper looked anything official: they were drawings of cars, hangman (with himself?) and a few X-302s. So he does know he has an office. Her next task was not so easy: sorting through the memo's, unfinished paperwork and the requests for the unfinished paper work (which took up most of the office space). To make this task more difficult these were stacked on the desk, chair, computer hard drive, filing cabinet and in several collapsed piles on the floor. I can do this she thought to herself, I have saved the planet countless times, died and come back almost as many times, I can do this!
Hours later, she didn't know how many, Carter finally succeeded in ridding the Colonel's office of paperwork. His memos were organised by date and importance (the no longer relevant ones thrown out), all paperwork completed and awaiting his signature before being submitted (some of it 3 years late), and the paperwork requests in a sizeable pile in the corner to be used in the bonfire at his birthday party this weekend.
With a brief glance around the room she noticed a file underneath the desk. Upon inspection it revealed several pieces of paper that had been crumpled, thrown in the bin (judging by the unknown green substance on the back of one of the sheets) and then smoothed out and placed in the file. Now curious she read the content of some of the pages. Oh my god…
Jack decided that he would, just once, see if he could complete some paperwork before his birthday, maybe just the recent mission reports. Quietly opening the office door (alerting people to the fact he knew where his office was would lose him serious cash) he saw it was almost as immaculate is Carter's office. He knew this because he spent a great deal of time there: annoying her, teasing her, watching the way her lips moved when she explained something that went way over his head, thinking what would happen if he could just… Finally noticing the very person he thought about was standing in his office and reading some very personal letters, he stopped that train of thought. Opting instead for Oh crap… because his 2IC was in fact reading love letters… addressed to her.
Not knowing what to do he chose the obvious option: being obvious. Clearing his throat, loudly, he attracted her attention. Maybe not such a good idea.
"Sir!" exclaimed Carter, startled and embarrassed at being caught reading his personal writing. The ensuing awkward silence lasted several minutes before she found the nerve to speak up. "I…ugh…cleaned up your office for you" she began. To avoid another awkward silence she decided to continue. "Happy Birthday!" she stated before heading towards the door, past her CO and the man who obviously still loved her.
Just as she reached her hand to the doorknob a voice spoke up behind her "So that's it, we just leave it in the room?"
Sam cringed at his words, which echoes echoed she had used years before, hearing the heartbreak and dejection in his voice. Making a choice to rectify her every regret over the past several years she backed away from the door and almost ran towards him. Within seconds their lips met in a soul-searing kiss which was so against regulations. Good thing they never turn on the cameras in Jack's office. They continued like that for an immeasurable amount of time, Jack eventually lifting Sam so she could perch on the edge of his desk and be level with him. Breaking the kiss he demanded "What is this!"
"A birthday kiss" she replied with a wicked grin and a glint in her eyes that promised a whole lot more.
And all because of some crumpled paper.
Title: Disciple and Deity (Part 2)
Fandom: Stargate SG-1
Prompt: Apotheosis
Warnings: Angst
Rating: K
Summary: A collection of goddesses through the eyes of men.
A/N: this is from a set of drabbles all about how men perceive those they love. Let the cheesiness ensue.
No-one knew Samantha Carter like he did.
Many knew Doctor Carter, the woman who had spearheaded the research (and practice) of wormhole physics. Doctor Carter was renowned for her brilliant and ground-breaking ideas. Colonel Carter was also well known. She was the person who helped defeat a dynasty that controlled a galaxy for thousands of years. Colonel Carter was a brilliant leader and fearless fighter. But these were only parts of Samantha Carter.
Samantha Carter was more than that. She had power over many, and chose not to use it. She had the potential to rule the world and chose instead to serve it.
She was honest, wise, brave and forgiving. She was everything to him.
Samantha Carter was the reason he lived and died. He was forever her faithful follower.
Title: Not So Easy
Rating: K
Genre: Humour
Disclaimer: Don't own it (yet)
Reviews: Provide meaning to my life. Constructive criticism, no flames!
Aila, Event Planner
My God, Apophis, stood tall and proud as he surveyed the room where the meeting was to take place. His slaves and underlings scoured every surface, polishing the gold surfaces as if their lives depended in it (their lives did depend on it). Hours from now, Heru'ur would be meeting Apoohis in this very room d to discuss a possible alliance and I, Aila Craise, was in charge of this to the smallest of details.
Apophis's eyes flashed to display his anger as he commanded "Come!", and his wrath was unmistakably directed at me. "Why is my planned attire ruffled along the front!" he demanded, as though that was something too ridiculous for a goa'uld to wear. He was obviously forgetting that his current wardrobe featured gold, silver and blue (colours it is a crime to wear together), a headdress that was so immense it required a support on his shoulders and two ceremonial swords I doubted he knew how to use.
Perhaps I should explain further, I am Aila Craise the most experienced and sought after goa'uld event planner. Weddings, ceremonies, even official events, you name it. Many believe that the splendour, grace and awe projected by the gods are natural. The fact of the matter is... it's not. Almost every second of their lived is practiced and rehearsed and planned to achieve the maximum impact. I am so sought after because that is what I deliver, maximum impact. And I'm smart enough to avoid being killed by an impatient god who doesn't want to wear ruffles.
"This is the attire requested by the queen" I replied (never underestimate how well you can blame others) "I shall take it to be remedied immediately as to obtain attire fit to be worn by your most powerful and awe-inspiring self". Because, yes, flattery will get you anywhere.
"See to it" he commanded and I escaped a painful death. In a few years, I would have enough favour to be an advisor to others, not in the direct path of the gods. They would destroy anyone who failed them, but they had one-track minds. I would be safe. As I left the room I heard the sounds of a slave being tortured for not polishing his sandals to gleaming. The Goa'uld were like children, really. They threw tantrums if they didn't get what they wanted. They threw tantrums when they did get what they wanted. Basically, they lived to make hell of the lives of those who looked after them.
Glad to leave the room I reflected on my chosen position. It's not so easy being a goa'uld event planner.
Lael the Cleaner
If he had been strong, he would have been a soldier's slave. Had he been wise, he could have gained a position as a temple scribe or a priest even. If he had good looks he could have served as a lotan or minor slave of a minor Goa'uld. Lael, however, was none of these things. So, like many others sent to be trained at age eleven, he had been selected at random to be trained in one of the professions that required no great physical or mental attributes: farmer, gardener, builder, etc. He honestly never even considered the position he was chosen for.
Lael was a cleaner. A position often given to those who had done something to really piss of their master. There were a few perks, maybe. No direct master, reduced risk of being killed for dissatisfactory service, no chance of demotion. Of course, it also meant getting up three hours before the sun to clean up the blood, guts and scorch marks of a recent battle before a visiting dignitary (the god his god wanted to suck up to) arrived on the ship.
Being a cleaner was…interesting. Honestly, he had learnt a long time ago not to question why he was scrubbing manacles of yellow blood or disposing of the bodies of small, fluffy, pink…things. He took it in stride.
He was called to clean up blue writing denouncing his god's divinity…he didn't ask.
Seemingly decapitated robotic people…he didn't ask.
His (now dead) god, Cronus.
He definitely didn't ask.
Story Title: Personal Rulebook
Character/Relationships: Sam/Jack
Warnings: None
Disclaimer: Had I owned SG-1, Sam and Jack would be together, Janet would be alive, ascended beings would be a lot smarter and Goa'uld would wear ruffles.
They had their own little rulebook. Customs that dictated the way they lived their lives. If they met each other coming into the mountain, eating together at the commissary, visiting her when working on a project or admonishing him for breaking equipment, they kept to the rules. The rules meant they could get close but not too close. Walk a thin line they pretended didn't exist.
On missions, whenever they changed watch one would sit and talk with the other for five minutes and hand them the coffee they needed to get through the night. More than five minutes was dangerous, even with no-one to notice. Less than five minute was a red flag that they'd had a bad day and it should never be discussed again.
Things got dangerous when they went into areas outside their system. Usually it involved emotion, something neither of them dealt with well. It meant they had to make new rules: stuttering, trembling, fiddling with the nearest piece of expensive equipment and then changing topic, back to safer grounds.
For some people having little routines like that made them happy. It proved they were in love and knew each other like the back of their hand. Routines made old married couples so cheesy. For Sam Carter and Jack O'Neill it wasn't that simple. Their routines prevented them being a cheesy couple, they always would. The want- but-can't-have characterized them after so many years. Habits became hard to break, even when the line no longer existed, they would walk it. Simply so they didn't ruin what they already had.
After all, that's what you do when you love someone.
Title: Warrior
Fandom: Stargate SG-1
Prompt: Beowulf
Warnings: Nil
Rating: K
Summary: Teal’c is a warrior. She is a battle that cannot be won.
Warrior. Jaffa.
Since birth, the two terms had been strung together. If you are a Jaffa, you are a warrior. If you are not a warrior, you are not a Jaffa. Learning to read or write was secondary, warriors learnt to fight. He learnt to win.
Despite the emphasis on physical prowess, his success stemmed from his ability to go beyond that. He could assess the strengths and weaknesses of his opponents. He knew which battles he could win, how that related to a war. Daily he fought his mentors and fellow students. As time went on, the fights became more serious, the consequences more deadly. Soon, he was in the service of Apophis. A member of his guard, then his First Prime. He did no less than what was expected from him. He married, had a son, and defended his God. In fact, he did so much more. He thought. Apophis was not his God. The Goa’uld were not gods. His people would be free from archaic rituals and whims bestowed on them by their gods.
When the day finally came that he betrayed Apophis and joined with the Tau’ri, he did not hesitate. His choice had been decided upon long before they arrived. A small band of three humans, without weapons, challenged him to live up to his internal promises. Fight a battle that he could not win.
Perhaps, the simple fact of their existence was the reason he followed them through the Chappa’ai. One was clearly a warrior like himself, a leader. One could not have fought for his life, but had obviously spent time devoted to thinking. One was a woman. It confronted everything he had been told to believe. But she fought and represented everything he wanted for his people: freedom to make their own decisions. Release from centuries of smothering tradition.
So, he followed them. Through politics of their strange new world, battles and threats, he followed them. O’Neill became someone he trusted as a fellow warrior, a new experience as many of those he had served with as First Prime wished for his death, to later take his place. Daniel was relied upon to explain his unique world and that of many in the galaxy, he was encouraged to think as he never had before. Eventually Jonas, Vala and Cameron all found some place in his life.
Samantha was an idol he worshiped from afar. While he once fought for Apophis, he now fought for his people and for hers. She was completely different, in no way could she be related to his origins. She was human, a woman, a warrior, a scholar.
He worshiped her from afar, unlike those unafraid to make their feelings known. She was goddess to others as well as him. Because he was a warrior, and would only fight battles he could win.