Supermodel
Supermodel
by Newromantic
Summary: Sam gets mistaken for Kate Moss.
Category: Humor, Romance
Season: Season 6
Pairing: Jack/Sam
Rating: PG
Warnings: minor language
Disclaimer: Stargate SG-1 and its characters are the property of Showtime/Viacom, MGM/UA, Double Secret Productions, and Gekko Productions. I have written this story for entertainment purposes only and no money whatsoever has exchanged hands. No copyright infringement is intended. The original characters, situations, and story are the property of the author(s).
Archived on: 05/01/03
Disclaimer: I own nothing of consequence. Never have, never will.
Supermodel
So it started off badly and pretty much went downhill from there.
I don't think it helped the situation much that I had made it obvious from the get-go that I really wasn't in the mood to go gallivanting across Colorado Springs that night, but the Colonel can be pretty persuasive when he wants to be.
Since we had the early shift the next day we'd all agreed to stay on base that night...not that Teal'c and Jonas had much choice in the matter, what with both of them living there, and all. Still, as much as I loved my job, it had been a while since I spent more than one night a week in my own bed and was looking forward to my next night off. I was getting more and more used to the lumpy mattress in my assigned quarters and, as much as Colonel O'Neill loved to complain about budget cuts and the Air Force's inability to provide their oh-so hardworking staff with comfortable beds, he was a soldier through and through, and could therefore sleep just about anywhere.
Anyway, after a day of avoiding doing his rapidly mounting paperwork, the Colonel got bored around seven in the evening and came to irritate me in my lab. In his wisdom, he had decided that we, as representatives of Earth, should take Jonas out for his first real taste of alcohol, and despite my protestations (among which being the argument that he looked around fourteen and would most likely get asked for identification) less than an hour later we were all signing out and making our way to the surface.
Teal'c drove for two reasons; the first being that he didn't drink alcohol, and the second (apparently more important) reason being that since Daniel had taught him to drive all those years ago, he had become a bit of an addict.
He even had posters of various forms of transportation hung on the walls in his quarters.
Seriously, the guy was turning into a machine-head.
Of course, Jonas insisted that the radio be tuned to the weather channel all the way to the bar and by the time we arrived he had memorised the state of Colorado's weather reports for the next seven days.
Which was nice.
We walked into the bar in single file; the Colonel leading, followed by Teal'c, who had decided to wear a very strange looking grey Stetson with `Cowboys like to do it on horseback' emblazoned around the brim. Apparently he had misunderstood the part that was meant to be humorous. He thought it was a subtle dig at stating the obvious, rather than a blatant and really rather pathetic play on words.
Still, each to their own.
I brought up the rear, trying desperately to keep a certain Kelownan from announcing his fascination with every little thing around him (Oh, look. A cigarette-butt. How interesting) and had to actually forcibly drag him away from a pretty heavy-set guy who'd deemed it necessary to threaten Jonas with inserting his Pool cue somewhere exceedingly painful when the poor little guy had asked his scantily-clad girlfriend how much she charged.
I was the one left feeling a little stupid when, believing his intent to be perfectly innocent; I asked him what he had been referring to.
"I thought she was a hooker." He replied unabashedly.
Of course, I had to blink a few times whilst trying to process this new piece of information, and my estimation of the sweet-and-innocent Kelownan dropped just a little further when the sentence registered in my brain.
It plummeted to gutter level as he added "Well a guy does have needs, you know."
Astounded, I plonked myself down in the nearest chair, practically tearing my sleeve as I tried to dislodge my arm from the sticky...stuff on the table before me and waited for the Colonel and Teal'c to return with our drinks.
As I had requested, they returned with a bottle of beer for me but by that time I was wishing I'd asked for a bottle of Whisky. I had the distinct feeling I would need to get shit-faced if I had any chance of surviving this night from hell.
I quickly decided that it would be in everyone's best interest if I refrained from telling Colonel O'Neill about Jonas' little attempt at seduction and instead decided to lead the conversation to safer topics.
Everything went well for about a half-hour, with the Colonel and Teal'c discussing the possibility of suggesting to Matt Groening the underlying benefits of crossing The Simpsons with Star Wars, and me trying to explain to Jonas why it was a seriously bad idea to eat the free peanuts at the bar whilst omitting to use the word `Urine' in polite conversation.
I bought the second round of drinks, after having refused Jonas' request of a `Screaming Orgasm' whilst mentally vowing to hide his DVD of the film `Cocktail' next time I was near his quarters, and here's where things started to go wrong. Again.
Apparently, and unbeknownst to me, whilst I had been trying to pry Jonas away from the ape at the pool table, the Colonel and Teal'c had had their own little confrontation with a man at the bar. It seems that, through his beer-tinted glasses, he had decided that I was, in fact, the sexiest woman to ever have rivalled Hathor.
Of course, the Colonel had, in no uncertain terms, told this guy to leave well alone, but it seems he wasn't listening to the warning bells.
So, I approached the bar and placed my order with the bartender, trying to remember that it was a bad idea to lean on anything that could, at any point, have had beer spilled on it when suddenly I felt a slight pressure on the back of my right thigh.
It was just my luck to have chosen to stand next to this wannabe Don Juan, but despite the fact that my friends had told this guy to leave me alone, they had decided it hadn't been necessary to inform me. So I was pretty much in the dark.
To say I was shocked by this blatant groping would be an understatement. I turned quickly to see where the pressure was coming from, and came face-to-breath with my admirer.
Had he been able to stand up straight, he would have been about six foot, with brown hair and apparently brown eyes (though in all fairness, the drunken squint didn't help). He was wearing a cheap suit that screamed of door-to-door salesman and his perfectly manicured nails were currently scratching irritatingly at the back of my cotton-covered leg.
Naturally, I did the only thing any girl like me could do when faced with a situation like this.
I blinked.
He slurred something in my general direction and, despite the fact that I was getting serious friction burn on the back of my leg I still had the overwhelming urge to find out what he had said.
I leaned in closer.
Big mistake, he smelled really bad.
I leaned back again, quickly deciding a safer option would be to shout at him from as far away as possible. "What?" I asked loudly.
"I said you look like a supermodel!" He screamed back.
Naturally, the jukebox chose that precise moment to finish the playing the song (and I use that term very loosely) and the entire bar went deathly silent; all heads turning to stare at the newly appointed Kate Moss.
Cheeks flaming, I murmured my thanks to the barman serving me and dislodged my now probably bleeding thigh from the drunk at the bar.
Trying to avoid making eye-contact with any of the Neanderthal's currently staring in my direction, I made my way back to the table, beer bottles and pint glasses balanced precariously in my shaking hands.
I managed to place the drinks on the wobbly table, whilst accidentally spilling a little of Teal'c's soda on the Colonel in the process and sat back down in my seat.
A poor attempt at revenge, but I had little to work with.
"So Carter," The Colonel began with a shit-eating grin, and I sighed, knowing full well that no death glare in his direction was gonna save me now. "A Supermodel, huh?"
I refused to get more embarrassed about this than I already was. "Apparently." I murmured back at him, still trying to set fire to the smug bastard using will power alone. "Still," I continued calmly, trying not to grin in anticipation at his expected response to this little dig: "It was nice to receive a compliment from someone, no matter how inebriated. After all, under the BDU's, I am still a woman,"
I turned my head away, feigning interest in the game of pool over the other side of the room and desperately willing myself not to look at the Colonel's reaction.
"Colonel?" Jonas' voice breaking the deafening silence around the table. "Are you okay? Only you've gone a little red..." and if that wasn't bad enough, he just had to add the final touch "...and you keep staring at Sam."
IwillnotgrinIwillnotgrinIwillnotgrinIwillnotgrin...
I jumped out of my seat like I'd just sat on a wasp. "I have to go to the bathroom." I announced rather loudly to the floor.
We just about made it out of the bar alive and headed back to the base with the Colonel only once threatening Jonas with certain death if he changed the channel on the radio one more time. Teal'c was still driving, and Jonas, in his wisdom, had decided he wanted to sit shotgun, so the Colonel and I ended up squashed together in the back seat of Daniel's beat up old Chevrolet, with me practically sitting on my CO's lap.
There was plenty of potential space in the back, you understand, but for some reason, since Teal'c had commandeered the vehicle, he had become quite a litter-bug; dropping Burger King wrappers and empty soda bottles all over the seat. Basically, we were playing dodge the wet patch.
No, not like that. Get your mind out of the gutter.
After a while of listening to Teal'c and Jonas arguing passionately about what was a more superior food group; Protein or Starch, I ended up tuning out. The four beers I had consumed on an empty stomach had made me more than a little sleepy and I leaned my head against the window, closing my eyes as fatigue washed over me.
I stayed like that for a couple of minutes until Teal'c took a bend too quickly and I ended up being thrown against the Colonel like a sack of potatoes.
Of course, Teal'c apologised profusely and I went to move back to my original position, my face only a little redder than before, but something was keeping me leaning against Colonel O'Neill's chest.
Turns out it was Colonel O'Neill's arm.
When I had been unceremoniously catapulted across the backseat of the car, he had taken the opportunity to wrap his right arm around me and pull me ever-so-willingly into his hard, muscular body.
Not that I was complaining, mind.
I froze for about five seconds before relaxing and snuggling deeper into his embrace, closing my eyes and savouring the feel of his chest rising and falling steadily beneath my cheek.
It was only when I felt a deep vibration against my face that I realised he had said something. I lifted my head slightly to hear him.
"So, a supermodel." He repeated quietly.
"Yeah." I murmured, not really wanting to talk at all.
"Did you ever want to be a model when you were a kid?" he asked, genuinely interested.
"Uh Huh." I replied. "For about five minutes."
"What made you change your mind?"
I thought about it for a moment. "I guess I didn't really relish the idea of sucking Laxatives through twenty dollar bills."
He laughed then, a deep throaty sound that made my insides quiver with nervous excitement. His hand rose off my back and I felt momentarily cold with the sudden change, but then he started to stroke my cheek and everything was once again all right with the world.
We arrived back at Cheyenne Mountain and together all made our way down to the staff quarters, walking each other home one by one. Jonas was the first to be dropped off, bidding each of us goodnight and making me promise to add to my teaching list what not to say to women when on the pull, then we said goodnight to Teal'c, promising to meet him in the commissary at oh-six-hundred for an hour of breakfast, knowing that the kitchen staff will have been up three hours earlier ensuring they had enough food for the Jaffa, then the Colonel walked me to my room.
As we reached the door to my quarters, I suddenly felt like I was on the `goodnight kiss' part of a first date. My heart was pumping wildly in my chest and my hands were shaking with anticipation. I knew the whole thing was ridiculous, there were guards in every corridor on base, and everywhere you went Big Brother was watching, but still I felt this night needed to end with something...more.
I leaned back against the door, looking up at him shyly. "Is this the moment where I invite you in for coffee?" I asked with a grin.
He smiled back. "Under normal circumstances." He replied, smiling back at me, but his smile was sad and somewhat reminiscent of a lost time between two power plant workers who never really were.
I nodded resignedly. "Goodnight Sir." I said as I went to open the door. He stopped me by placing at stilling hand on my shoulder and I turned back to face him.
He glanced up at the security camera above our heads. The red light was off at the moment, telling us that the receiver was trained on another part of that floor. We watched the camera together, mesmerised as the red light came back on and both mentally counting the seconds from the moment it went off until it came on once again.
Just under forty seconds.
The light switched off for a fourth time and before I even had time to react the Colonel grabbed me by the shoulders and pulled me towards him, his head bowing towards mine. I brought my face closer to his, inhaling the scent of his aftershave, revelling in the sensations of his fingers kneading my arms.
Our faces inched together, my eyes closing in anticipation; somehow knowing that time would stand still for us. And just as I could feel his breath on my face he...
...swore. Loudly.
The guy had the most amazing hearing, I decided irritably as Jonas came careening down the corridor.
"Colonel!" He called, "Sam!"
It was my turn to share obscenities, though a little more subtly, as the Kelownan came to a screeching halt next to us, apparently unaware of the heady tension we were currently experiencing.
"What is it Jonas?" the Colonel bit out as he released me from his vice-like grip.
"I just had a thought!" he replied excitedly as I mentally made a note of lacing his next fifty meals with arsenic.
"Oh, what's that?"
"Next time we go to a bar, why don't we invite Doctor Fraiser?"
That was it? That was it?
"Jonas Quinn." Came a second voice from a little further down the corridor. Jonas turned to face Teal'c, confused by the blazing look of murder in the Colonel's eyes.
"I suggest you run."
Footnote: The comment about models sucking laxatives through twenty dollar bills was just a generalisation. I'm sure not all models suffer from eating disorders or drug addiction.
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