[Moments of Adoration]

Just something silly for Valentine's Day.

He wasn't sure if the grunt Carter made was editorial, or just because she was still straining against the very securely locked door.

"Carter, leave it. It's not going to budge."

"I know," she said, and proceeded to ignore the command. Crouching down, she examined the hinges, tapping a finger against her chin. The short black leather skirt she wore crept up the length of her thigh, enough for Jack to see the edge of her stockings. He wondered what she was, or wasn't wearing under the skirt, and his dick made a valiant effort to stand up in appreciation of the mental image.

Just his luck - here he was with hot blonde in leather and stockings, and they were locked in a damn freezer. And he had a bullet lodged in his ass.

Fucking Baal and his fucking clones. He hadn't seen Carter in a month, and right in the middle of his meticulously planned Valentine's weekend of lots of incredible sex, he runs into Baal 1.12 and posse of his henchman coming out of the bathroom at the restaurant. In the middle of Washington D.C.

Un-fucking-believable.

He shifted the wrong way, and pain lanced up his backside. "God damn it, Carter, leave it. Someone will find us soon enough." They'd cleared the restaurant in grand style; Jack had tackled Baal, Baal's minions had pulled guns, and then there was a lot of shooting, screaming and stampeding. He figured the police would arrive in force any minute.

"Let me see." She'd sacrificed her shirt to staunch the blood, and was now clad in a tank top thing. Gooseflesh speckled down her arms, and he was treated to an excellent view of her nipples through the thin material.

She gently pushed him onto his side. "How are you?"

"I'm freezing and I got shot in the ass, Carter. How do you think I am?"

"Well, whose idea was it to play James Bond instead of yelling for backup?"

"Well, who got us locked in here?"

Jack was sure she deliberately chose that moment to poke at the wound, hard. "Fine. Next time I won't try and find us cover when we're out-numbered and out-gunned, and you're wounded. Next time I'll just finish my dinner and let you handle the situation."

He wondered if she'd always been this bitchy under all those years of professional restraint. "Okay, look. I'm sorry. You know that being shot makes me… cranky."

Carter patted him on the thigh after adjusted the makeshift bandage, and then sat back on her heels. "Jack?" There was a touch of warmth in her tone now, and he figured he was forgiven.

"Yeah?"

"Next year, just send me flowers."