Every now and then, Sam daydreams about what their first kiss would be like. The traditional exchange on her porch at the end of the first date. An illicit makeout session in a dark SGC closet. A chaste touch of the lips after a long day or particularly stressful mission. A slow, lingering kiss out on the dock at his cabin. Each scenario fits her mood at the time. None involve alien viruses, time loops, or time travel.

Some (like the second) she pushes out of her mind immediately. Others (like the last) linger longer than she cares to acknowledge. But the same dull ache remains throughout.

It's not so shallow as a desire for intimacy. And it's not that she longs for depth in a relationship – he already understands her better than anyone, and she already anticipates his every move. She just wants to be able to acknowledge what she feels. To greet him with more than just a salute, to contact him with something other than SGC business, to be able to tell him she misses him.

They've known each other for more years than she'd like to count, and she's never been able to do those things.

But now that she can, she's not quite sure how.


"Jack."

He was barely conscious of the lukewarm beer in his hand and the small crowd of friends chatting in his living room.

"Jack." A hand waved in front of his face. "Jack!"

"What, Daniel?" he sighed listlessly, his annoyance only halfhearted.

"You know, you should probably go talk to her."

"Who?"

"Sam."

And suddenly he became aware how long he had been by the window watching her. "Oh." She was sitting alone outside, looking out over the pond and lit only by the dim yellow glow of the dock light. He could trace every line, every expression on her face, but from where he stood he couldn't tell what she was thinking.

"Jack, you do realize what this means?" Daniel said impatiently, waving his hands around.

"That someone staged a surprise retirement party despite my explicit request not to do so?"

Daniel rolled his eyes frustratedly. "You're no longer in the military. Which means you and Sam... you can be together."

"Your point?"

"Well –"

Jack held up a silencing hand. "Will you stop pestering me if I go?"

Daniel frowned. "Probably, yes."

With an extravagant sigh, Jack took a swig of beer, thrust the bottle into Daniel's hands, and headed for the door.


Minutes passed and they were still sitting silently on the dock. Sam's jeans were rolled up and her feet brushing the water, her hair blowing gently in the breeze. It was a little wavier than usual from the humidity. He liked it.

"Beautiful night," she said quietly, startling him out of his reverie.

"Yup," he said under his breath without looking away. (Meanwhile he cursed himself for how very cliché they were.) "It is."

She raised a half-amused eyebrow and turned her head to face him. "Are we actually going to talk about this?"

He sighed. "Come on, Carter, I don't know what to say."

"Sam," she corrected firmly.

He blinked. "Right. Sam."

She smiled slightly, watched him for another second, and turned back to stare at the treeline across the pond.

Finally Jack spoke. "Do you still –"

"Yes," she said decisively. "Do you?"

"Yes."

She smiled almost shyly. "Well, there you go."

"Wasn't so bad, I guess."

"No. No, it wasn't." Her smile grew, and he couldn't help but smile back as the thick knot of tension settled in his stomach began to loosen. But it didn't quite hit him what had just happened until her tongue darted out to moisten her lips. A wave of warmth and realization rushed over him like a sudden gust of breeze over the pond – he bent his head down and brought a hand up to rest on her cheek and thread into her hair.

Their lips met for the first time, and Sam let out a quiet sigh.

It was exactly as she'd imagined it.