Disclaimer: Stargate SG-1 and its characters are the property of Showtime/ Viacom, MGM/UA, Double Secret Productions, and Gekko Productions. This story for entertainment purposes only and no money whatsoever has exchanged hands. No copyright infringement is intended. The original characters, situations, and story are the property of the author.

Damn Blue Dress

It was that damn blue dress, Jack thought, staring into the campfire's low-burning flames. Jabbing a stick into the coals, he leaned back, watching a shower of sparks ascend into the night sky. He'd come to dread this part of his watch. He didn't have to look at his timepiece to know it was midway through his guard duty.

Lately, the pattern remained unchanged. He'd be excessively alert to the sounds of nocturnal alien fauna, but soon would find his rigid posture relaxing when the growls and howls remained in the distance. His attention again would be drawn to the fire as the only source of entertainment, and his mind would drift.

Years ago it had been Sara and Charlie who'd occupied his thoughts during his night time vigils. Now it was the group rapidly becoming his new family. Recently, one member in particular had captured his attention. Jack prided himself on impartiality when it came to women in the military. He truly did view the few females he'd worked with as "one of the guys" when it came to handing out assignments.

Carter was different. Maybe it was because she was a scientist. Maybe it was because she was so freakin' smart. Maybe it was just that she was Carter. He liked to think he treated her the same as say, Kawalsky, but he knew he didn't. He expected more from her as his 2IC than he had any of the others. He wouldn't rely on Kawalsky to figure out how a piece of alien technology functioned, but then he didn't expect Feretti to translate a dead language either, as he'd come to expect from Daniel. Of course, prior to SG-1, he had no need for such skills. This was a whole new way of operating, so it wasn't so unusual his thoughts landed on his newly assigned second more often than not, right?

Right. It was that damn blue dress. It wasn't long after their return from Simarka Jack started having dreams of Carter in the absurdly excessive native dress, hoisting her MP-5, taking out several of Apophis' Jaffa.

It wasn't the dress he objected to. On the contrary, the shiny, glittery fabric showed off Carter's. . .attributes rather nicely. Which was the problem. Up until he'd seen her in the off-world yurt, Carter was Carter, the overly-enthusiastic geek who insisted on regurgitating more information than he ever wanted to know. Now she was a woman. Not just a member of his team defined by her rank and brains, but a member of the opposite sex. A fact he wasn't supposed to notice. Unfortunately, he had.

He wasn't so desperate that anything in a skirt turned him on, it was Carter in a skirt that turned him on. He was even finding shapeless BDUs a turn-on lately, as long as it was Carter filling them out. She'd told him he'd love her once he got to know her, and damn it, if she wasn't right. Okay, so maybe "love" was too strong a word. He hadn't known her long enough to say what he felt was love, but it could head in that direction if he wasn't careful. Neither of them could afford that emotion and remain on the same team, and, much to his surprise, he liked having her on his team. A few months ago he never would have admitted the current members of SG-1 were who he wanted to work with. In retrospect, he wanted to write them all off. Now he couldn't imagine heading through the 'gate with anyone else. However, he couldn't deny Carter was becoming a distraction, and that wasn't good for business.

He was poking the fire once more when he heard the zipper on the tent. Not turning around, Jack tried to guess who was exiting. Teal'c would most likely have finished Kel'no'reeming, and would be welcome at the fire since he rarely spoke. Daniel, too, was usually silent until he'd had his entire first pot of coffee. Carter, on the other hand, woke up and hit the ground running, and would no doubt start thinking out loud and theorizing even before she left her sleeping bag. He wasn't in the mood for techno-babble, or any babble at all, so was torn when Sam gracefully folded herself, taking a seat on the stony ground across the fire from him. She didn't speak, just stared into the embers of the dying fire.

Jack watched her, trying to gauge what she was thinking by the expression on her face. She wasn't giving away much, and he surprised himself when he cleared his throat and spoke first.

"Couldn't sleep?" She just shook her head, continuing to stare at the fire, eyes glazed over as her thoughts roamed the stratosphere. Silence stretched between them until she sat up a little straighter, as if she'd come back to herself.

"If you like, I can finish your watch. I don't think I'm going to get any more sleep tonight."

Jack found his stick in the fire again, agitating the coals. "Bad dreams?" Sam shrugged, looking into the flames once more. She looked almost embarrassed, he decided, and wondered where that would have come from. True, she'd advocated for this mission, and it turned out to be a bit of a bust, but that was no reason to look so abashed. "Look, I know we'd hoped to find a more advanced civilization here. Hell, any civilization, but it isn't your fault that the images from the UAV looked like they could be buildings. They were fuzzy. Who knew they were rock formations?"

Sam's lips quirked into an ironic grin. "Daniel's usually the one finding 'rocks.'"

Jack felt his own lips twitching towards a crooked smile as she turned his teasing of Daniel back on him. She did that a lot, he realized. Embraced his odd humor. Of course it was great for his ego, to know he could make her smile, but when he accomplished his goal, it shouldn't shoot straight to his gut as it often did. That was the feeling that was dangerous and unprofessional. When he looked back up, he noticed the teasing twinkle had left her eyes, and melancholy had returned. He wasn't one to go looking for discussing personal issues, but the forlorn expression on Sam's face gripped him so, he was speaking the words before he knew it.

"So, what's eating you, Carter?"

Pulling her knees to her chest, Sam seemed to curl herself into a ball. "Why would you think something's wrong?"

"Hmmm. Let me think," he said, tapping his lips. "Up in the middle of the night, quiet for the longest stretch since I've known you, scrunching yourself up when it's not cold. Shall I go on?" He managed to elicit a small smile, but no confession.

"Not much gets past you, sir."

Jack sat up straighter, pulling on the lapels of his BDU shirt. "I pride myself on my observational skills." That earned him a shy look from under her lashes, and another tiny smile.

"So, what gives?" he pushed again, wondering why he didn't just leave her to herself and her musings.

Suddenly she slapped the ground in frustration. "It was that damn blue dress!"

Jack was shocked. Carter was stuck on the dress too? Now he was intrigued. He knew why he was obsessed with it, but didn't have a clue why she should dwell on it.

"Excuse me?" he asked, eyes squinted, eyebrows raised.

"If I hadn't been made to wear that ridiculous get-up, I wouldn't have had a chip on my shoulder the size of Texas, and I might have handled things with Turgan with a clearer head."

Swallowing down the bark of laughter threatening to escape, Jack did his best to keep the smirk from his face. "I really don't think you can blame it on the dress, Carter. You were kinda worked up even before that."

Sam nodded, staring into the fire once more. "Yeah, I guess I was a little offended by Abu's reaction to me."

Jack was grateful he hadn't chosen that moment to take a drink. "A 'little offended?'" he quoted, voice raised in pitch enough that Sam looked up at him.

"Okay, so it really grated, and the dress was the last straw. I know I can get a little carried away sometimes. . ."

"Carter, I don't know how you can carry anything when your arms are filled with that soapbox." At first she looked as if she was going to make some kind of defensive remark, then stopped herself, smiling sheepishly.

"I guess so."

Silence drifted between them once more and Jack stood, crossing over to the small pile of wood they'd all helped gather. Taking a few steps, each movement produced a series of snaps and pops. He was still a little stiff from his lack of movement when he looked over at Sam, pointing a finger at her.

"Don't get old, Carter. That's an order." A full-blown smile graced her features, and her gaze dropped self-consciously to the ground.

"Yes, sir."

"And don't get any bright ideas about taking on any more misogynistic warlords. My heart can't take it." When he realized what his statement must have sounded like, Jack turned around again to avoid her scrutiny.

"You were worried about me, sir?"

"As I would be about any member of my team in the same situation," he said, still fiddling with the wood so he wouldn't have to look at her. He was certain every recent revelation he'd had was on display for her to observe. He couldn't let her see how affected he was since her femininity had been so blatantly pointed out. Looking across the fire, he saw her expressive eyes watching, and for the life of him, couldn't dismiss the memory of those same eyes staring at him from under the ornate headdress. The thoughts were totally inappropriate, but that didn't mean he could stop them.

xxxxxx

Sam continued to watch her CO. Something was up with him, but she couldn't figure out what. He was always a fidgeter, but he seemed more unsettled than usual tonight. She doubted it was the planet. This trip through the Stargate seemed more like a camping trip than an actual mission. Sam supposed she should feel some remorse she and Daniel had pushed so hard for this planet, but to be honest, a little break in the action was nice. It was a relief not to be shot at, captured, coerced, mistrusted, or belittled. Again, her thoughts turned to the damn blue dress.

It had been been humiliating. She tried so hard to blend in, be one of the guys, that being held up as sex object, was more than degrading. Just when she thought she was gaining some ground on the equality front, the Shavadai had to go and make everything be about her being a woman. A woman who didn't measure up on the ability scale. She'd tried to comfort herself with the knowledge she had strengths in other areas the guys didn't have, but even to herself she sounded defensive.

The colonel was actually coming around, She thought. He recognized they were stronger as a team rather than the individuals comprising the group. That is until the displaced Mongols felt they needed to impose their fashion sense on her.

And if they were so offended by her working along side men, why wasn't she given conventional Shavadai clothes? Why dress her up in a costume that would have been costly in any society? She got that it probably increased her value as an object of trade, but initially, that hadn't been their goal. It wasn't until Abu got a look at her and got his gonads in a knot he recognized her potential as barter.

Daniel's gaping fish mouth had actually been kind of cute, until she realized where his eyes were focused. Well, where all their eyes were focused. Teal'c hadn't seemed particularly affected, but who could tell when his expression rarely varied. Although the colonel had been smirking, obviously enjoying her discomfort, she hadn't missed the heat and appreciation in his gaze. Sam was a bit embarrassed to admit it, but for all her talk of equality, if she'd gotten a flat look like Teal'c's from the colonel, she would have been disappointed.

So that was why she was still going around and around with the damn blue dress. She wanted it both ways. She wanted to be one of the guys, but special when it suited her. It seemed the worst kind of hypocrisy and the dress had become the target of her ire over a personality flaw.

O'Neill interrupted her mental tirade. "Carter? Coffee?" He raised his metal cup in her direction as if to remind her what he was talking about.

Shaking off her musings, Sam stood to retrieve her cup. "Actually, sir, that sounds good." She'd left her mess kit on the other side of the fire pit, and felt O'Neill's gaze following her. Given where her thoughts had been, she wasn't sure how she felt about the attention. She was extremely self-conscious leaning over to retrieve her cup, sure the colonel's eyes were focused on her butt. Or maybe it was wishful thinking that his gaze had landed there. Clearing her throat and standing taller, Sam held out the tin cup for him to fill. O'Neill's fingers brushed hers as he reached out to steady the cup, their gazes met and Sam prayed the glow from the fire would mask the flush she felt rising to her cheeks.

She wished she understood why he had this affect on her. Had always had this affect on her. Daniel didn't cause such a reaction, and he was much more tactile than the colonel. Was it that his touches were so rare? So carefully guarded? He'd probably noticed her near hero worship of him and was doing all he could to distance himself from her.

So where in the hell was all this coming from? She hadn't been this unsure of herself at sixteen. Of course she hardly knew what a boy was at that age, as consumed as she was with her studies. Not as focused as she was now, but she certainly hadn't missed when O'Neill was around.

"Thank you, sir," she said quietly, making her way across from him once more. Retaking her seat on the hard ground, she took a sip from the cup, relishing the warmth in the cool night air. Jack nodded, taking a sip himself. They sat in silence, each staring into the flames, lost in thought. For the first time in ages Sam felt herself relax, and she realized with a bit of surprise, it was the first time she'd relaxed around him.

Mostly, Sam was constantly on edge, waiting for the next order she would scramble to fulfill, hoping she didn't let him down. If she had a dime for every time the colonel admonished her to relax. . . . And here she was, sharing the quiet midnight hours with him as if it were routine.

She wished she hadn't acknowledged her attraction to him. Not only did she concern herself with her job performance, now she was second guessing if she was being too personal with him. Sharing coffee on a starlit night was starting to feel too personal. Maybe she should return to her bed roll, even if she wasn't likely to sleep. She was too aware of everything about him: the way he tugged on the bill of his non-regulation ball cap; his fingers washing over his face in a gesture of fatigue; his sigh before relaxing back against the ground to stare at alien stars. She shouldn't notice these things about him. Did she know Daniel and Teal'c's habits as well as the colonel's? Sam didn't even pretend she did.

It was that damn blue dress, her thoughts reminded her, realizing that's when the shift had occurred. They'd gazed at each other and suddenly each was cast in a new light. He wasn't just the Colonel. There was a man staring back at her that happened to wear the mantle of the military, and for the first time, she wondered how different things might have been had they met under different circumstances.

xxxxxx

Jack stared up at the stars, trying to forget he wasn't alone. He didn't want to be so cognizant of her presence that he registered every breath she took, every movement as she sipped her coffee. He wanted her to go back to being Captain Carter the scientist, because he loathed scientists. That way he could write her off, wave his hand at her as being a mere annoyance. But she wasn't. And he didn't want her gone, he just didn't want to be so aware of her.

"Whadda think, Carter? That one look like a duck?" he didn't know why he was trying to draw her into conversation. Maybe if they talked about inane subjects he wouldn't keep noticing how the firelight glinted off her hair.

Sam craned her neck, tilting her head back to look where he was pointing. "I don't know, sir. Looks more like a barque."

"A bark? How can a sound look like something?"

"A barque, sir. Like an Egyptian barge?"

Jack made a noise somewhere between a grumble and a laugh. "You've been spending too much time with Daniel."

"Yes, sir." he could hear the smile in her voice and was torn whether he was glad he wasn't looking at her or wishing he could see the wry grin she was no doubt sporting.

"I still think it looks like a duck."

"Then I think that's what you should call it." For once she left off the "sir" and he realized how much better the sentence sounded.

"Duckus, or whatever the Latin would be." Sam let out a genuine guffaw which she was doing her best to stifle, and he shrugged. "Or not."

Tamping down her laughter, she managed, "I think it's perfect, sir." He couldn't help the bubble of pleasure rising in his chest at the thought he'd gotten her to laugh. She seemed to have lightened up since joining him at the fire, and he took great pride in that.

Maybe it wasn't so terrible he'd seen the woman beneath the uniform. It had been so long since he'd experienced anything even close to attraction, it felt almost novel. It probably wasn't a good thing she was a subordinate, but at the moment he didn't care. It just felt so damn good to feel something other than guilt and remorse he wasn't strong enough to fight the affect she had on him. Maybe the blue dress wasn't the curse he'd thought it to be. Maybe he should be grateful he'd seen the other side of her.

Yeah. He could blame it all on that sweet blue dress.

The End

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