Title: Spur of the Moment
Author: tigermoth26
email: nvc425@hotmail.com
Rating: R - language, adult themes
Category: Daniel/Janet Angst vignette Thoughts
Spoilers: None!
Series: RST (Story One)
Series Status: Unfinished
Summary: So...they finally got around to jumping each other's
bones...but was it really all it was cracked up to be?

Disclaimer: Stargate people aren't mine. Somehow I doubt that I
will make any money out of this. Please kindly refrain from using
the 'S' word. It shits me.

Notes: Feedback will be put in a shrine and worshipped like
Apophis. Hail feedback!
btw, the faster you send feedback, the faster I write the sequel.
Yes. That's a hint.

Thankyou so much to Shaure, who beta-read this for me :)

Spur of the Moment


We finally did it. We had sex. Screwed. Bonked. Banged. Shagged.
Tangoed in a horizontal manner. Fucked. Did each other. Whatever
you want to call it - up against the filing cabinet in his office...and then against the
door. Like hormonal animals in the peak of breeding-season, in heat.


Was it good? Was it bad? Did we achieve fulfillment in any way

...I don't think so.


What is it like to have a quick fuck up against the wall with a
friend you've grown to love and know?

Rather unfulfilling really.

When it was all over - we buttoned up, cleaned up, re-arranged
and then we went back to work. Business as usual. Did
something happen? You'd never guess it. Back to the infirmary to
check up on my walking wounded, (or lying wounded, depending on how
drugged up they were). The memory of his hands on my skin nothing
more than a whisper in the back of my mind.


Daniel Jackson, the one you've lusted after for all this time,
finally makes a move on you...was it even what you expected?

Hell no...hell yes!

Hell....I don't know.

It can't have been anything more than the slide of bodies in
response to a stressful situation. A comfort screw - a friendly
shag. A simple sharing of human contact to take away the sting of
an imminent disaster.

Nothing more.


The groping of hands, the exploration of unmapped skin, the crumple
of uniforms as they fell to the floor...it was nothing?


Nothing but a spur of the moment shag up against his office door.

It meant nothing

It was nothing.

Just a mutual comfort shared between friends.


He walks by me to visit his good friend Jack, lost in a coma on a
bed against the farthest wall. He avoids my eye just as I avoid

The life support beeps.

Blip. Blip. Blip.


...And then flatlines.


I wonder what can mend our hearts?