Title: Just Your Average Everyday
Word Count: ~600
Summary: Jack's not sure letting Carter take the lead was really a good idea.
Categories: Fluff. Humor.
A/N: Thanks to a. loquita for the read-through. =)
Jack let Carter lead the way toward the main entrance of the large but otherwise non-descript building. Looking up, he scanned the line of the flat roof; then he dropped his gaze and searched hopefully for secondary exits. Sadly, none were immediately apparent.
He muttered something under his breath about crazy ideas and crazier people, with just enough volume for Carter to hear a word or two, but not quite loudly enough for her to hear the whole thing. Carter, for her part, straightened her shoulders and lifted her chin just a little, but kept right on walking. Jack narrowed his eyes, trying to figure out when exactly she'd honed the skill of ignoring him to such a fine art.
Undeterred, he switched from actual words to more of a grumbling sound, the sort that he knew drove her absolutely nuts. He waited. One second, two seconds, three seconds, and -- bingo.
She drew to a stop and pivoted to face him. "What on Earth," she said, putting her hands on her hips and raising an eyebrow in a combination that would probably be lethal to lesser men, "is your problem?"
Jack was, as usual, glad he wasn't one of those lesser men. He stared back at Carter for several seconds before he glanced up at the clear blue sky; then he looked from her to the building and back again. He made the sort of face that usually accompanies unexpectedly eating something sour or really unpleasant. He watched her growing more impatient, to the point when he thought she might actually start tapping her foot. Finally, he spoke.
"You're asking a lot, you know."
"Dragging me off on a life-threatening mission," and he looked pointedly up at the sky again, "on an otherwise really fine Saturday morning."
She rolled her eyes.
"There are many, many other things we could be doing. Almost all of which pose significantly less threat to my health and well-being."
She made an exasperated sound. "Yes, Jack. After everything you've done, it's going to be shopping for a new couch that kills you."
"It is," he said. She repeated the annoyed noise, but he continued anyway. "Shoppers are dangerous, Carter. Salesman are worse. It's like a whole building full of Unas. They --" he broke off and raised his hands beside his head, flexing his fingers like claws. "Grr," he said, baring his teeth.
Jack watched as Carter fought down a laugh; the process looked - and sounded - a little painful, actually. Eventually she gave in, huffing out a tiny, amused breath. "You're lucky I think you're cute," she said, grabbing one of his hands and pulling him inexorably toward the doors.
"Not so lucky if it's not getting me out of this."
She kept pulling.
"So, I'm not getting out of this?"
"No." She paused, then looked over at him with a slow, lazy sort of smile that made him wish – even more than he already had been – that they weren't in the middle of a parking lot in broad daylight. She tugged on his hand, pulling him closer to her as they walked. "On the other hand," she continued in a completely different tone of voice, "you never know what interesting things might happen if only we owned a couch that wasn't steeped in a few decades worth of grime."
Well, that was something, anyway. Jack thought for a minute about whether couch sex with Carter made up for being forced to spend the morning furniture shopping.
Maybe there was a chance here to sweeten the deal.
Jack pulled his hand free and slung his arm around her shoulders, leaning over to speak softly in her ear. "Can we get one with cup holders?"
"No," she said, jabbing him in the side with her elbow.