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Slightly Clumsy

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The first thing Jack heard as he pulled into the driveway one Thursday afternoon was loud music coming from the garage.

The second thing he heard was a yelp and a string of curse words.

Practically racing to the garage, Jack slammed the door of his truck and muttered to himself about talking to a particular blonde about her work habits. Namely, not hurting herself while she worked on her Motorcycle.

Sam had been given time off SG1 duties due to Cameron obtaining an injury. The team had a week off and Jack thought that was as good a time as any to use up some of his very scarcely given leave. They weren’t going to be able to go to the cabin, Sam was on call in case the Ori attempted anything. It was getting pretty bad. But being home with her was just as good. It wasn’t very often that they got to spend more than a night or two together anymore and he was glad to have her in his company for seven whole days.

He reached the door and peered inside, rolling his eyes at the sight in front of him. Sam was sitting crossed legged on the ground, finger in her mouth and glaring at her Indian as though it had just insulted her.

“Whatcha doin’?” Jack asked from the door. He was leaning against the door frame, staring down at his girlfriend. Sam looked up with a smile and a streak of motor oil over her nose. There was nothing more beautiful than Lt. Colonel Samantha Carter looking up at you from under those gorgeous long lashes with those bright baby blues. And nothing more adorable than that image being marred by the dark black stain of grease she didn’t seem to realise was there.

“Fixing my bike. But I just dropped a wrench on my finger and it hurt” Sam said, the grin sliding off her face as she studied her finger, which in her defence was likely going to turn a nice shade of purple. At least, his had when he’d done the same trying to help her with the bike last time they’d been together. Jack suppressed a chuckle and pushed himself off the door.

“C’mere”

Sam stood and walked over to Jack. He wiped his thumb across the smudge on her nose and grinned down at her. His arms falling to encircle her waist. Sam leaned up slightly and pressed a soft, quick kiss against his lips. Without breaking eye contact, Jack grabbed the hand that had been hurt and placed a soft kiss against the offending finger which he could see was already turning a different colour.

“Better?” he asked, a grin forming.

“Much” Sam chuckled. She placed another small kiss on his lips before resting her head on his chest. They stood like that for a while, just enjoying each other's company. It didn’t matter how big, or how small, Jack O’Neill always knows how to help fix her problems. When she moved, her hair brushed to the side and Jack noticed something red on Sam’s face. Jack’s deep and caring voice brought Sam back to reality.

“Carter. Why is there dried blood on your forehead?” He asked pulling back slightly.

“Oh! I hit my head on the handle of my bike earlier - I guess it didn’t bleed much because I didn’t even notice!” Sam shrugged as though she hadn’t injured herself at least twice today. Jack looked concerned.

“Sam, you need to be more careful.” Jack placed a kiss on her forehead, now moderately concerned with how hard she had hit it.

“Its fine, Jack. Really! I am ok.” She kissed him softly when she noticed the concern still on his face. It didn’t matter to him how minor the damage was, it was still damage. He had spent too many years waiting for her, hoping for a time when they could finally be together. He wasn’t about to lose that now because she did something foolish around her bike. Although he’d never tell her and he certainly wouldn’t try to stop her, he still worried she was going to hurt herself riding and he panicked every time she went out.

“Just… be careful, okay? I’d like to come home to find my girlfriend in one piece.” Sam scoffed and pushed away from the General she was just wrapped around. She was trying to hide that grin she always wore when he referred to her as his girlfriend. Sam grabbed Jack’s hand and pulled him towards the house.

“Yeah, sure, you betcha!” she laughed. Jack followed her willingly. He would follow her to the ends of the Earth if that was where she wanted to take him. Once inside the house, Sam let Jack clean the incredibly small, or so she kept saying it was, cut on her forehead. They called the local Chinese take out and, once Jack had picked it up, settled on the couch with a documentary on in the background and Sam’s feet in Jack’s lap.

Later that evening, when Sam was pressed firmly against the older man’s side, slowly falling asleep, and the small, square velvety box was weighing heavy in his back pocket, Jack concluded that this had definitely been the best way to use up his leave. And he couldn’t wait to take her on a hike tomorrow morning for, he hoped, a very special picnic lunch. He didn’t need aliens, running and fighting all the time, although he would be lying if he said he didn’t miss it. No, he was a simple man and all he needed was a beer, some fish and his super smart and sometimes very clumsy, motorcycle obsessed girlfriend.