Disclaimer: Not mine.

Rating: R. ish. Not very. More all in the head.

Pairing: Guess. (c'mon, which list is this again? Thor/Jack? Oh. Right, then)

Spoilers/Set: Eh. No spoilers, but probably sometime in... well, actually, the humming thing is from 7, so, probably after. But. No spoilers.

Summary: She likes to hum.

Notes: Eh, the elevator scene caused this. This is... fluffy.

Archiving: Sure.

Dedication: I suppose this one's all A.j.'s, even though it isn't the ass on the side (as far as I know) and it isn't angry tablesex. But it is all her fault that I'm even writing this kind of stuff in the first place.


To A.j. who understands that cunning and insidiousness are required when one wishes to addict someone to Jack O'Neill.

The Sound of Music

by Ana Lyssie Cotton

"You're humming."


"Humming. Carter."


"Now you're smirking."

"I suppose I am."

He shifted, peering closer at her. "Why?"

"Umm..." She shifted, too, pulling her arms up and folding them behind her head.

This distracted him slightly, since the movement had caused the sheet to slip down a bit further, and rather tasty nipples were puckering in the cool air. But he'd asked her a question, so he dragged his gaze away from temptation and back to her face.

Her smirk had deepened.



"You were humming."

"So you said." The smirk attempted to look innocent, but she was starting to eye the line of his shoulders with interest.

It was his turn to smirk. "Do you always get like this, or is this just a one-time thing?"

Her eyes widened, "Get like what?"

A snort escaped him. "All right, Ms. I'm an Astrophycist. Have it your way." He rolled onto his back and stretched, glancing sideways to see the effect it had on her.

She was watching his skin with a rather heated look.

Oh, yes, this could indeed be amusing.


"Yes, Carter?"

She sat up and stretched, "I think I'm going to go make breakfast." And she scrambled out of bed on the other side and stood there, every gloriously naked inch of her.


"Breakfast, Carter?"

"The most important meal of the day, Jack." Not quite gracefully, she reached for the shirt that had landed on the back of his desk chair and pulled it on.

"Having trouble there, Carter?"

"Your boots, Jack, were not meant to be walked on."

Distracted, because Carter was now wearing nothing but his shirt (ok, so a minute ago, she'd been wearing nothing, but this was Carter. And that was his shirt. And he was so never washing it again. Ever), Jack flopped over onto his stomach and looked at her. "Ya sure?"

"Of course I'm sure." She pulled up one leg and attempted to look at the bottom of her foot. Affording him a rather interesting view.

"Damn. No camera."

Carter blinked at him, distracted from checking her foot for damage. "Jack?"

Oops. "Just considering photographs. For posterity."

Her eyebrows shot up, her smirk returning. "Posterity?"


Forgetting about his boots she stepped towards the bed, tripped, and landed next to him. "Oof."

Never one to let an opportunity pass him by, Jack reached out and slid a hand down the front of his shirt.


"What?" Fingers teased at a nipple, and her breath caught.

"Breakfast, Jack."

"The most important meal of the day?"

She shifted, letting him have better access to the skin under his shirt. "Maybe the second."

"Oh, no, no. Maybe it's the--"

Her lips silenced his.

Hrm. Carter was kissing him. Upside-down. This was a new experience. Briefly, he freed his lips, adjusted, and started to go back in when a thought occured to him. "Carter?"


"You're humming again."