Category: Stargate SG-1
Title: Fire in the Hole!
Author: HailDorothy
Genre: Romance/Fluff
Rating: Fiction Rated: T
Pairing: S/J
Season: Far beyond S10 - Futuristic
Summary: Sam's stuck and Jack's trying his best to un-stick her!
Dedicated to every woman who has ever found herself in Sam's undignified position. I know you're out there!
Disclaimer: I so don't owe Stargate SG-1. But this little ditty is mine.
Feedback: PLeeeeZE???

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"Let me help you out, babe." Jack reached for Sam.

"No! I got here myself, I'll get out myself."

"Fine. Have it your way." He crossed his arms and leaned against the open door.

"This is your fault you know."

"Excuse me?" He shifted his weight and his eyebrows shot into his hairline.

"I swear all men are born in barns." She huffed.

"They don't have heads in barns, Carter." He snickered.

"Fine. Then your mother failed to teach you good manners!"

"Hey, don't drag my mother down the crapper with you." He pointed at her position below him. "Get it?" He grinned, "Down the . . ."

Her flying fist just grazed his Simpson-boxers protected privates.

"Hey! No hitting below the belt." He smothered a laugh, relieved he'd dodged her attack.

A lethal Carter glint.

"I think being the man on Atlantis went to your head." Jack held his ribs as more laughter exploded.

"You will pay, Colonel!" Sam wiggled, her long naked legs flaying helplessly.

Whoops, she demoted him. Crap! He hated when that happened. Actually this had never happened before. And why was it his fault? Not like he did it intentionally. He was after all, a guy. A snort bordering on manic laughter tickled the back of Jack's throat, but meeting his wife's fiery blue glare, he swallowed the guffaw that made his eyes water and his nose leak. Tearing off a patch of toilet paper he blew his nose and tossed the soiled tissue in the wastebasket. Not dignified, but then there was nothing dignified about the present location of his wife's bare derriere or the suction problem that held her in place.

"How about I pour some olive oil around your cute ass and later we could have a tossed salad?"

Sam's face turned the darkest shade of plum red.

"No? Huh? Maybe if you'd put some weight on . . . down there," he snorted, "This wouldn't be such a gravity matter." He wished he had a camera. Wait, he did.

"Not funny!" She spewed trying to break free—on her own.

"You've got to be kidding," He snorted. "I can't think of anything funnier—except the time Daniel stuck his p—"

"You, Jonathon James O'Neill, are dead!" Sam glowered.

"Been there, done that." He smirked and winked, hoping his dimples would disarm her.

"Third time's a charm!" Nope, dimples didn't work.

"Wrong. According to Teal'c I've been dead six times, not counting Baal's torture chamber amusement ride. Want me to call the Roto Rooter guy?" He gestured to do just that.

"Screw you."

Okay, then. This was serious. In her present position that wasn't about to happen—the screwing part that is. Sam huffed. Tears welled. All she had to do was ask for his help. And she thought he was mule-headed.

"Why'd you flush?" Jack glanced into the bathroom mirror and patted down his bed-head gray hair. Um, he needed a shave.

"It seemed logical. I didn't want water on the floor."

Jack glanced down at the large blue puddle he stood in. "So much for physics and toilets." He tossed towels on the floor and preceded to cleanup the water. Jack wondered if the Tidy Bowl toilet disinfectant would leave a blue ring around his wife's bottom. "So want my help, now?" He offered his hand.

"No!" Carter glared hotter. Did her eyes just glow?

She gripped the circular edge of her porcelain prison and struggled upward, only to drop back into the tight suction hole. At least she'd cleaned the toilet yesterday. A series of human and alien curses burned her pretty red lips. Wow! Where'd she get such a potty mouth? He couldn't recall seeing Sam this pissed when they'd worked together, even when he'd royally screwed up.

"Ya know this adds a whole new dimension to, 'Fire in the hole!'" Man, he cracked himself up.

"What?" She cranked her blond head upward and glared at his moving lips.

"Did I say that?" He feigned ignorance.

"Please, Jack?" She surrendered and stretched out her arms to him.

"About time." He grasped her offered hands and pulled.

Something popped.

"Ouch!" Sam grimaced as she sprung into his arms.

"Better?" Jack smiled against her hair, while his hands roamed south to examine the damaged goods and his lips found her warm inviting mouth.

"Much." When Sam launched herself against him pinning him to the wall, Jack flashed back to when she'd contracted the Broca virus. Wow! He loved an aggressive Carter! He proceeded to kiss her shoulders then worked his way down her delicious body.

"No!" She ordered as she eased out of his embrace and turned on the shower's water.

"Hey, I just wanted to kiss your booboo." He pouted when she stripped and hopped into the shower.

"I know." She smiled suggestively. Her bad mood gone, Sam soaped-up with bath gel. "Care to join me, General?"

"Do I detect an invitation to fraternize?" Jack stripped and joined his wife beneath the hot wet spray of their master bath's shower.

"Yep." Sam giggled, lathering his chest. "But it'll have to be a strategic incursion before our team wakes up."

"I love when you talk tactics, Carter." Jack gently examined her red marked derriere and frowned at the bruised skin. "This calls for plan A." He turned her backside against him and kissed between her shoulder blades.

"Indeed, sir. However I don't want you to get a potty mouth." She snickered and handed him the sudsy washcloth.

"Was that a joke?" Jack accepted the cloth and trailed it over her buttocks. He then drew Sam against his wet hard body.

"No." Sam made certain she had her husband's complete attention. "That was—,"

The sound of a flushing toilet was followed by running water. Husband and wife shared alarmed looks. Jack yanked the shower curtain ajar, stuck out his wet head and gawked.

"Mommy, Daddy? The potty made a big whooshing noise like the Stargate!" Five-year-old Grace O'Neill stood barefoot in the middle of their bathroom surrounded by a growing puddle of blue, while water overflowed from the toilet bowel.

"I swear I turned off the water!" Jack frowned at their curly brown-haired, blue-eyed daughter who stared up innocently.

Sam noticed how father and daughter donned the classic O'Neill duh expression. Rolling her eyes, she shut off the shower faucet, grabbed two towels then turned off the toilet's water source.

After securing a towel around his waist, Jack lifted Grace off the drenched floor, set her on the sink counter and ordered, "Stay," then he left and returned with a mop and rolls of paper toweling and a garbage bag.

"Ya know times like this I miss the old days, Carter." Jack layered paper toweling on the tile floor to soak up the water.

"Oh?" Sam glanced at her annoyed husband.

"Yeah, back when my greatest concern was admiring your six or deciding if I should buy a dog."

"The old days were never that good, Jack." Sam reminded him.

"Hey, humor me here, willya?"

Sam snorted.

At that moment a large fur-ball on four long legs plowed into the bathroom and slammed into Jack. The stunned Hinz 57 mix looked up at its frazzled master and slobbered Jack's face.

Grace giggled. "Thor loves you, Daddy."

"Ah, yuck! Stop that, Thor. And, Grace O'Neill, no giggling." Jack protested with little influence as he picked up the overt-affectionate dog and set it beside his daughter. "Your mom's responsible for all this." He groused, looking back at the floor and leaking toilet. "I admit she has amazing suction powers but—,"

"Excuse me?" Sam interrupted with a frown and pointed at their curious five-year-old.

"Whoops! Sorry." Jack blushed. "Fine, from now on I'll lower the seat and lid after I pee or crap."

"Dad said the P and C words again, Mommy."

"Jack!" Sam lectured.

"Sorry," he defended. "Um, Grace, axe the P and C words, okay?"

"Pee and crap?" she asked with a giggle.

"Yep, those." He winced avoiding Sam's glare.

His wife shook her wet blond hair. "What am I going to do with you, Jack O'Neill?"

"Well, since you asked?" He waggled his brows and winked.

"Easy, General. We've got a toilet to repair first."

"We?" Jack cringed.

Sam gave him 'the look.'

"Dang."

"Jack!"

"Sorry. Hey," he snapped his fingers, "how about we draw straws?"

"No." Sam stifled a smile.

"I'm just saying." He tightened the towel around his lean waist.

A baby wailed in the background.

"Jacob crapped and is 'ungry, Mom," Grace announced, sliding off the counter top.

Jack groaned and met Sam's weary smile. "So, coin toss?" he hopefully offered.

"Nope. You can change his diaper, but you don't have the equipment to supply his breakfast." She hugged her full breasts which started to leak at the sound of their son's cry.

"Fine. You win." Jack surrendered. "Like what's new?" he said with a lecherous grin.

Sam kissed his sulking mouth and said in her best Carter kick-butt voice. "With all due respect, sir, had I installed an automated titanium toilet seat and cover to begin with, none of this would have happened."

"Yeah sure yabetcha!" Grace O'Neill smugly agreed.

"Woof!" Thor wagged his tail.

"Da, Da!" Jacob called out.

"Oh, fer cryin'outloud!"

"Ya think?" Sam mimicked his defeated tone.

"I do. And um, Samantha?" Jack smiled at the woman he loved more than life.

"Jack?"

"I wouldn't have us any other way."

The End