Domestic Bliss
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Age Friendly!

Title: Domestic Bliss
Author: Ky (Venom_69)
Fandom: Stargate EssGeeWun
Category: Romance, humor
Pairing: Sam/Jack
Rating: Age Friendly
Summary: This was never going to work
Archive: My site. Anywhere else, sure, just let me know where so I can come visit.
Disclaimer: Don’t own them, never will. Promise to put them back in the state I found them. Song’s not mine either.
Author’s notes: Written for [info]justace
Date: 30/09/06
Copyright to Venom, 2006


This is the world we live in
And these are the hands we're given
Use them and let's start trying
To make it a place worth living in.


"Don't put that there, you know that's not where it belongs."

Was she growling at him? "It's just a pineapple, Carter."

"That's not the point."

"What is the point then?"

"The point is that it does not belong there and you should know better already."

This was never going to work. "Carter, when did you get so anal about pineapple?"

"I've always been anal about pineapple." She replies, folding her arms defensively. "You've just never lived with me."

Ain't that the truth! "Well. Do you think we could compromise on the pineapple?"



She shakes her head. "Absolutely not."

"Relationships are about compromise."

"Not in this case."

"Why not?"

"Because next you'll be wanting to compromise on where my Hello Kitty underwear is kept."

What the...? "How is your ridiculous underwear related to pineapple?"

It's about two and a half, maybe three, seconds after the sentence leaves his mouth that Jack realizes that he has just signed a death wish. Or, at the very least, some kind of clause that states he can't have sex with her for a week, possibly longer.

She might be a fully grown, incredibly intelligent, beautiful and amazing woman, but you do not mess with Samantha Carter and her Hello Kitty Underwear.

It's just not on.

Any minute now... Jack thinks.

"Well then," She says calmly. Too calmly. "If you think it's stupid, you obviously don't want to see it again. Or any of my other underwear, for that matter.”

All that silk. All that lace. All of those colours. Lost to me, thanks to a stupid pineapple. “That’s not what I meant.” He doesn’t add ‘and you know it’ because that generally means that, not only will he not be allowed to have sex with her for an unspecified amount of time, he will also be forced to the couch. In his own home and all, damnit.

“Would you like to clarify what you meant then?”

Jack opens his mouth, poised to reply, but the look on his face kills any reply that he may have had and he shakes his head like a petulant two year old. Crap.

“I didn’t think so.” She nods, and hands him the bag of apples. “Now that we have that out of the way, how about you put the rest of the fruit away while I do the toiletries?”

He nods obediently and feels her eyes glaring daggers into his back as he puts the apples away – in the right spot and all.

Carter leaves him to his own devices – obviously he is now trustworthy enough to be left alone with the bananas and the oranges – and Jack hears her pick up the bag of girly stuff and head for the bathroom.

It’s not that living with her is bad or anything. It’s actually really great, full of nice little perks – aside from sex – that make her anal-ness just about tolerable.

Jack isn’t stupid, he knows that he has it pretty good with this particular woman and he’s prepared to put the fruit wherever she wants it in exchange for legally and freely being able to say “I love you.”

It was just that... For cryin’ out loud, he’s a guy.

Guys don’t need the amount of stuff that girls do. He remembers the day that she moved in, four ton truck in tow. Holy crap! he had thought, standing on the front deck as she directed the removalists. Where the hell did she get so much stuff?

Guys don’t much care about where the TV remote is, just as long as it’s within reaching distance of the hand that doesn’t hold the beer. He remembers the first time he watched a hockey game with her here. It’d all been perfectly innocent until he’d closed his eyes – just for a moment. He wasn’t asleep and he will fight her on that to the death – and she had moved the remote. When he’d opened his eyes, a hunt had ensured because, damnit, a man needs his remote.

Guys don’t need their linen to be all folded neatly and tied with a ribbon. You would have thought that World War III had erupted in their hallway the day that Jack pulled a ribbon off her blue set of towels.

And guys most definitely do not care if the pineapple is put in the crisper at the bottom of the fridge or if it’s on the shelf above it.


“Yes?” A few weeks ago he would have made a wisecrack and said something along the lines of ‘Yes, dear?’ Now, though, he knows what that specific screeching type sounds coming from her means and he knows that it’s not good.

“Why is the toilet paper roll empty?”

“Because I used the last of it?” Does she need a diagram?

“And you didn’t change it, because...?”