Title: Half a Conversation
Word Count: ~850.
Summary: Jack's trying to behave, really he is, but there's just nothing else to think about here. Sam, Jack and a partly-silent conversation. Just a ficlet.
Genre: Humor. Cliches!
A/N: Thanks to binkii822 for the read-through!
Jack's trying to behave, really he is, but there's just nothing else to think about here. He gazes up at the ceiling, making a list in his head of the groceries he has to buy tonight. He focuses on a scratch in the wall right above the panel of buttons, trying to remember when Teal'c said he wanted that sparring session. He looks straight ahead at the door, concentrating hard on that training report Hammond says he's to get done by Friday on pain of death.
Amazing how long it takes for an elevator to go twenty or so floors.
He sighs, and shoves his hands in his pockets, and directs his gaze downward so he can try studying the metal grid on the floor – and that proves to be his undoing. Because as his eyes drop, rather than travelling all the way to their destination, they somehow get stuck staring right at Carter's six.
It's a nice view.
Unfortunately, he doesn't get to study it for very long, largely because she turns toward him, crossing her arms across her chest.
With a wince, he brings his eyes back up to look at her face, which can't quite seem to make up its mind exactly what expression's appropriate for the moment. Her eyebrows have climbed up quite a bit, and he's pretty sure she's trying to purse her lips in annoyance, but the little quirk of a smile tugging at the corner really gives her away. It's cute, and that's always distracting; said distraction is probably the reason why his next thought forms whole inside what ought to be the privacy of his own mind before he really has the chance to censor it.
I'm thinking about grabbing your ass.
The smirk pulls a little harder on her mouth."I know that, sir."
I know you know that, Carter.
"That's nice, sir."
She bites at her lower lip, obviously trying not to smile, and he suddenly decides staring at her lips is a really bad idea. He redirects his gaze to the general area of her hairline. Shouldn't you be thinking that you know that I know that you know that?
"I really shouldn't."
You really should. And it's really not fair that you know that, and I have no idea what you ... uh, know.
She's given up the fight against the smile. Shoving her hands in her back pockets, she turns back to face the elevator door. "Hydrogen, helium, lithium, beryllium, boron …"
As she says the words in a little sing-song sort of chant, she bounces a bit on her toes; Jack concentrates very hard on staring only at her temple as he flails about for a thought that has nothing to do with what he's really thinking. Whatcha doing?
"Trying to drown you out, sir. I don't suppose you've considered just speaking out loud?"
This isn't going to be any fun if you don't play along, you know.
"Then this really isn't going to be any fun." she says.
Not going to be any fun, sir? Weird unidirectional telepathy shouldn't mean she gets to ignore protocol, should it? He wonders if she heard that last thought. Since she's laughing, he guesses she probably did.
"Nope," she says, still bouncing. Is she doing that on purpose? "No 'sir'. Not if you're going to be running around in my brain thinking that much about my ass."
He doesn't have much choice besides honesty. It's a very nice ass, though.
She rolls her eyes. "Yes. I know you are."
Hey! A little respect for the man who has no privacy, Carter?
Her sigh pretty much fills up the elevator. "I know you are, sir."
There. That's much better.
"Yes. Better. That's exactly the word I'd use."
She crosses her arms again, and his gaze drops down involuntarily. Nice.
Sorry. I'm a guy, you know. Also he momentarily forgot that a running commentary was necessary to keep himself from actually thinking any of the more incriminating things in his head.
"When did Daniel say this would wear off? I couldn't hear what he said through the play-by-play of last night's hockey game you were giving me."
Sunset. And why sunset, I ask you? We're under a mountain. That doesn't make any sense at all.
Carter closes her eyes. "It's only 0900," she says, ignoring his question.
I know. Jack looks away from her, trying very hard not to let on whether he thinks it's a good thing or a downright disaster that they've got a good nine hours more of this to get through. His eyes fix on the numbers counting down to their destination. They're nearly there.
The elevator doors slide open; she hesitates, turning back to look at him, almost as if she's wondering what he's thinking. He gives her a jab in the small of the back to get her moving forward.
Come on, Carter. We've got work to do. It's going to be a terrific day.