Title : Something to do with a pin

Author : DiBee

Summary : Jack and Sam stuck in a very particular way in a prison cell. And something about a pin. That was important. What for, again? Humor, and let's call that romance. Crackfic!

Spoiler : Oo None. I hope! Lol

Disclaimer : Not mine, nothing gained (but a good laugh, at least for me!^^)

Rating : let's go for T. Indeed.

Author note : That story begun on facebook, where Niccki had said something about a pin code, and Little Cursed and I had totally gotten side-tracked. So I dedicate this to both of them. In the hope it will make them (and hopefully, you!) smile =)

English is not my first language, and I happen to have written that while listening to Russian singers over a Bollywood theme. But I'm rambling again^^ So there you go.

Jack woke up in a room he knew was a prison cell without even having to open his eyes. Something about the smell. It was unusually quiet, though. So quiet you could hear a pin drop, though no one would drop a pin in there, except maybe someone like Daniel, but again, who would give a pin to Daniel? Anyone mentally sane would have used it long ago to pick a lock.

But that wasn't the matter, considering there wasn't a pin in sight. Not that he had opened his eyes yet, though. Because at the moment, being in a prison cell wasn't exactly his biggest problem. And there well was something to do with a pin in the mix. As he was pinned down under her.

By her, he meant 'her' obviously, who else. Her, with bright blue eyes, gold hair, and that smile... Oh, that smile, he could go on about for hours without ever getting bored of it. Not that he would happen to open his eyes to check if she was 'wearing' it. His mind snapped for a minute as he imagined her wearing nothing but her radiant smile but he was quickly made very aware of his second in command shifting over him. Oh, that wasn't exactly the brightest idea she had had in her life. Well, she couldn't always be as bright as making a sun explode, but still. That idea was no good to his physical sake, especially the kidney she had just accidentally (or so he hoped) punched, nor the way she was actually leaning onto him, that had an effect on his physiology he would have rather her not to spot. But in that position, if she hadn't... she really was wearing an inappropriate number of layers of clothing on that body of hers.

He eventually couldn't resist, and opened his eyes to directly dive into hers. Hell did she had beautiful eyes. Though those pupils were way more dilated than they should have been. Eyes mostly darker than usual. He didn't had the time to analyze the fact that it was even more addictive to him to look into those eyes that she already had her lips on his. At first, he thought she might have collapsed, or something. Then, he settled on 'or something' when he felt her hands wander in places he never thought they would find their way. Not that he was complaining, he was just... surprised. That fact didn't keep him from responding to her, though.

By the time she had pulled back, or at least as much as their positions allowed, she just added three words.

"We are alone."

Like it totally justified what they had been doing. It actually did in Jack's mind, and he thought for a second that he could not include it in the report, blaming it on the head trauma he very certainly had from having been shoved to the floor in the first place. Though he would hardly be able to blame Sam's next reaction on any trauma of hers given he had obviously served as a pillow. Again, still not complaining.

It appeared that the words she had uttered had another, deeper, meaning that just the justification of past action, but also future as well. That he found out when she begun pulling at his jacket's collar, then his shirt's once she was done with the first annoying piece of closing. How she had managed to do that from above him was totally oblivious to him, but yet again having her pinning him down, now by literally being sitting on his lower half, tended to have that affect on him. That affect, and few others, as an increase in his heart rate, blood pressure, and a few other things more or less related to that.

When her fingers finally grazed his skin, he finally reopened his eyes that he hadn't noticed having closed. But again, his sight was getting blurry, there was something off, he could tell.

"Stay still, Sir, they may not appear to be coming back anytime soon, but I would still rather have a look at your wounds, at least the visible one, before they do, as they appear to be the 'let's hit where it hurts' type. And I would rather not have to reanimate you again. I can already barely move due to my own injuries, and having to do it while leaning on you is not exactly a conventional way to do it."

She had said a lot of things, but very little had really registered in the man's head. He may really be suffering from a head trauma, after all. Why else would he imagine Sam talking of playing doctor?