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sarcasticsciencefictionwriter · 10 months

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Hello again! You mentioned you’re willing to write something for SG-1, and oh, please do <3 So - mechanic / cyborg, that last prompt? (Or, also, roommates / circus, if you like this one, because I can easily imagine the squad as a part of a circus haha)

You got me with that one! So here, we go. :) I'm not sure I'll do the roommates/circus one for SG-1, because I was actually planning on doing a multi-chapter Sanctuary circus story before I saw the list. I might do it, but for now, I don't want to take away from my other idea. Wow, this is longer than the other. Here's the mechanic/cyborg story.

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Two Kinds of Sparks

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A spark cracked loudly in the silence of the shop and Sam yelped, jerking back her hand and shaking it. She scowled at the generator she had been repairing. Big and awkward, she had been paid a handsome fee to repair it. If she fixed it, she would be able to pay the rent for her shop without worry for the next few months. Maybe hire a kid or two to help her out.

It was how Sam had gotten her start, after all. She had been a down-on-her-luck teenager and had landed a job in a shop like this one, learning the trade and paying her own way.

Sam sighed heavily and ran a grease-stained hand through her hair. She scowled at the generator. She should be able to do this. Even if it was that new fancy kind that fused in technology she was just itching to get her hands on new and whole, instead of beaten up and mistreated.

She gave up for the moment. She had less of a deadline with the generator and there were a few regular cars that needed her attention. What she wouldn't give for someone to help her.

She turned to the engine of a truck she had repaired quite a few times over the years. The thing really should have been in the junkyard a few years ago, but Sam treated the truck like a doctor treated a patient. If she could save it, she would.

She was under the truck itself when she heard the rumble of an engine pull up towards her shop. Not a common occurrence, so Sam slid out to see what was going on.

A pick-up truck had pulled up in the driveway of the shop, idling for a few moments. Sam surveyed it. It wasn't as old as the one that she was working on, but most people would have ditched it by now. It was lovingly taken care of. Not in a I'm-weirdly-obsessed-with-my-vehicle way, but in a this-is-what-gets-me-around-and-I'm-keeping-it sort of way. She approved.

The engine turned off and a man got out of the cab.

Sam hated that her breath might have caught when she took him in.

He was good-looking, with brown hair that was almost completely gray and a body that was still in pretty good shape. He must have been over a decade older than she was, but Sam couldn't deny the attraction she felt.

She was also suddenly acutely aware that she had grease and oil smeared on her face, clothes, and in her hair. She didn't look her best right now.

Sam shoved those thoughts away. This was a customer. And she sorely needed customers if she couldn't fix the generator.

"Hi. Can I help you?" she asked, deliberately looking at the truck and not the man.

"I was hoping. Heard you're a pretty good mechanic." he said, pulling off his sunglasses to reveal brown eyes.

"I don't know about that." Sam said, still trying to eye the truck more than the man. It didn't look like anything was wrong with it.

"Oh, don't sell yourself short, Carter." he said.

"How did you know my name?" Sam asked, a little more sharply than she intended.

He gave her a strange look.

"I asked around. Everyone said that Sam Carter is the best around. Good enough for me. Though, I have to say, I thought you'd be a guy."

"Sorry to disappoint."

"Oh, I'm not disappointed."

Sam felt a pleasant squirm in her stomach and did her best to ignore it. She needed to be professional here. She needed the job.

"What's wrong with it?" she asked briskly, walking towards the truck.

It hadn't sounded strange when he had pulled up and she couldn't see anything wrong with it. Of course, if she didn't get underneath it or look under the hood, the view she had could only tell her so much.

"It's not that machine that's broken." he said, sounding a little weary.

Sam turned back to him. He had his hands in the pockets of his leather jacket, mouth turned down in an unhappy frown.

"I don't make house calls."

"Uh..." He cleared his throat awkwardly. "Can we talk somewhere more private?" he asked.

"All right."

Sam was confused, but intrigued --and attracted-- enough to go along with it for now. She took him back into her tiny, cluttered office, noticing that he walked with a pronounced limp across the longer distance. She sat on the edge of the desk and he took the chair in front of it.

"So. What's this mystery machine?" she asked, resisting the urge to run a hand through her hair in an attempt to fix it.

He coughed, looking awkward.

"Me."

Sam felt her eyebrows rise.

"Excuse me?"

"Me. I'm...." He pulled up the leg of his jeans, displaying a badly scarred knee, metal glinting through. "Some of my parts aren't working right."

Comprehension dawned and Sam openly stared.

"Cyborg?" she asked, fascinated.

There weren't a lot of them around, but they were becoming more and more common these days. A blend of human and machine. Usually military members were the test subjects and she wondered if he had been one.

His expression turned a little sour at her question.

"That's a little too sci-fi, don't you think?"

"What do you prefer?"

"Robotically inclined."

Sam laughed at this and he cracked a smile too. She sobered and, reminding herself to be professional, held out her hand.

"Sam Carter."

He took her hand, shaking it.

"Jack O'Neill."

"Well, it's nice to meet you, Jack. But I'm not sure what you want me to do. I'm not licensed to work on.....the robotically inclined."

"Word is you know how."

Sam flushed. She technically wasn't supposed to know that, but she did.

"Well, yes, but....why don't you go to a doctor that is licensed? They'd provide better care."

"I can't afford one." Jack said simply. "I got cut loose the last time I 'malfunctioned'. Program that did this to me and the military said adios. So here I am."

Sam was a sucker for things like that.

"I'm sorry. I'll see what I can do."

She'd be in a hell of a lot of trouble if anyone found out, but what could she say? She didn't want to turn him away. She didn't turn anyone who came to her for that with a story like that away.

Jack gave her a thin smile.

"Thanks, Carter."

____

Okay, so maybe she was in a little over her head. Sam hadn't realized just how much of Jack was tech and machine versus what he'd been born with.

Bits and pieces were, not whole big chunks as she'd been anticipating. Both knees --"They were bad before they were replaced with that junk"-- and portions of his legs. Segments of his abdomen and chest. Even his heart had been grafted with machinery. Most cyborgs Sam had seen were blatantly obvious. Jack, on the other hand, was subtle and normal looking with clothes on.

She currently had his knee laying open in the back room she had sterilized, because she was afraid of introducing infection and bacteria, even if he wasn't fully human anymore.

She found delicate pumps and tubes that replaced segments of veins and arteries and muscles, pieces of machinery and tech she normally would have lusted after. And here they were, just casually inside a man.

Jack had insisted that she didn't need to knock him out or anything like that, because the skin and nerves weren't real and he couldn't feel what she was doing. Sam had the feeling that he didn't want her to take the risk of getting black-market drugs for this.

"How's it going, doc?" he asked, watching as she explored the structure of his knee, which seamlessly joined with the bones.

"I'm not sure yet." she murmured, only half hearing him.

She lost herself in exploring what made this man more than a man, trying to find what worked and what didn't. It was easy enough to find, but it was delicate work to replace. Usually everything was on the outside and she could just detach parts at will.

"You've done this before." Jack said, half admiration, half accusation as she finished with the first knee, a metal bowl holding the broken bits of metal she had fished out and replaced.

"Yeah." she admitted. "But usually on..." she chewed her lip. "Whole parts, not fusions."

"Fusions." Jack mused. "I like that."

Sam smiled as she used a sealant on the synthetic skin, putting it back together. She turned to the other knee, ready for whatever challenge that one brought her.

It was a good few hours before she was done with Jack, but Sam was feeling very pleased with her handiwork.

Jack slid off the table, testing out his knees. His expression turned to one of pleasant surprise as they took his weight and he took a few steps.

"They haven't been that smooth in years." he declared.

Sam smiled, discarding the gloves and mask she had been using.

"I doubt that."

"How much do I owe you?"

"Uh..." Sam trailed off, not sure what to say.

She had a feeling that it would be beyond Jack's price range, even though she charged lower than those licensed. The amount of work she had done and the things that she had replaced had racked up the cost. They looked at each other and Sam knew Jack knew it.

"Do you know anything about engines?" she asked.

He blinked.

"What?"

"Cars. Engines. Things like that."

"Keep my truck running myself."

"Then maybe you can help me out for a few days. Work it off instead of paying me."

"Really?" Jack frowned, obviously thinking this was solely pity.

"Really. I need the help and can't afford it. Trade off." Sam said.

Jack smiled, meeting her gaze. That alone was enough to make heat fill her belly.

"You'd be my boss?"

"Only for a few days."

"Okay. Sounds fair."

"Great."

____

The next few days went better than Sam could have imagined they would. Jack hadn't been lying about his ability with cars, even though he had never been 'trained' as a mechanic.

Sam was able to focus more on the generator and let Jack handle the cars. She was also able to accept more jobs because she wasn't so swamped.

She was feeling so much lighter than she had been lately. She would make the rent. She had someone helping her. She could do this.

It definitely had nothing to do with the fact that she got to work alongside a man she was incredibly attracted to.

It definitely had nothing to do with the fact that when they worked side-by-side she found even more to like and daydream over.

Sam was embarrassed, mostly because she shouldn't have been mooning over what Jack could do to her in a different situation in the first place, let alone while he was working for her.

But he kept smiling at her, making her laugh, just being sweet.

He would bring her coffee in the morning, a sandwich at lunch. Joked about making her his apparently famous 'secret ingredient' omelet.

Sam had already deduced the secret ingredient was beer, but Jack hadn't seemed to notice just how her mouth had turned dry when he declared he needed to make her one. Eggs, after all, were inherently a breakfast food, and she had immediately wondered under what circumstances she might be in his house that early.

She also found herself amazed at how normal he was. Most cyborgs she had met were gruff and grim and didn't treat her like she was normal. Sam understood that, because they had been through a lot, but Jack wasn't like that. Another point in his favor.

She was working on the generator at the end of Jack's owed week, though he really had already paid her back more than he owed her. The shop was quiet and Jack approached her.

"I'm done for the day." he announced, watching her intently.

This time when the generator sparked, Sam just kept going. A few more tweaks and it would be as good as new. Her chest was nearly bursting with the anticipation and pride of this accomplishment.

"Uh-huh."

"Are we good? No more owed?"

"We're good." Sam said, not looking up, pretending that she didn't regret saying those words.

The generator hummed to life as she attached the last part. Sam yanked her hand back and stared. Then she jumped up and down, unable to help herself.

"Yes! Yes! I am that good!" she cried, staring at the glowing machine.

Jack chuckled. Sam felt her cheeks flush and she looked at him, running a hand through her hair, which was once again streaked with grease.

"Good job, Carter."

"Sam." she corrected, as she had been all week.

"So. I'm fired now?" Jack asked.

"Yeah." Sam said, feeling the smile leave her face.

"Good."

Wow, the guy really knew how to stick a needle into the balloon of her soul.

Sam tried not to think about how he was apparently happy to go.

"You're a free man, Jack." she said.

Jack smiled and walked forward, closer to her. Sam was confused.

"So. Sam. Can I ask you a question I've been wanting to all week?"

"Sure."

"Would you like to go to dinner with me?"

Sam's heart nearly stopped, then leapt into her throat.

"What?"

"I like you, Sam. I want to take you to dinner. You know. The last meal of the day. A date."

"Why did you wait?" she asked, breath caught in her throat with her heart.

"Not very professional if I'd asked out my superior." Jack said, smirking a little.

She laughed. Then she nodded.

"Great." Jack smiled, looking as if he'd been nervous, which stunned Sam.

Sam wasn't sure how to react to this, because she wanted to jump up and down again, but she definitely wasn't going to. So she gave Jack a mischievous grin.

"You're only asking me out so you can get free repairs, aren't you?" she teased.

Jack gave her a lopsided smile.

"Something like that."

#stargate sg1 #sam carter #jack o'neill #sam x jack #sam/jack #stargate fandom #stargate fanfiction #fanfiction #writing prompt #thanks for the ask

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