Disclaimer – I don't own anything, just borrowing. Spoilers for Beachhead.
Temporary
Jack O'Neill tries and fails to school his reaction when Samantha Carter only gives his address to the cab driver and not her hotel address. He's a complete goner when she casually rests her hand between them on the seat, her pinky just, just, brushing his. There's been a spark between them all night; if he's honest, there's always been a spark, but it's charged tonight after spending the day working together for the first time in weeks and he almost feels bad for the driver who has to listen to their silence.
A tour of his new digs at the Pentagon followed the briefing she gave this morning on the new Mark Nine she's been working on at Area 51 which was her official reason for being in Washington.
It's not the first time either; though they'll never admit it they've been making up reasons to check in on one another since they officially left the SGC. He's visited Area 51 three times, to her two visits to the capital.
Subtle.
Not really.
But it was better than people assuming the rumours were true all along and they're just making themselves public now she wasn't in his command. He would never allow her to do herself or her career such a disservice. Not even when he almost lost her to another man. He wouldn't ask her to choose between him and Pete, just like he wouldn't ask her to choose between him and her career years ago. She deserves so much more than him, it hurts.
For some reason, he can't fathom why she's here or bothering with him. He just considers himself a lucky SOB and, though it's rare, this is one of those times he should keep his mouth shut and not question it. Which brings him back to tonight.
It's not a date. Well, neither has labelled it as such.
They've made a pattern of having dinner and drinks whenever they visit.
Tonight has been months in the waiting. Before they left Colorado, before their fishing trip, before she broke it off with Shanahan. If he's honest with himself, this has been coming since the day she showed him the ring.
At the time there was no end in sight to the fight with the Goa'uld so he had to do the right thing and let her go with some ambiguous line. He tried to be happy for her, he did, but ended up having to distract himself by dating a younger woman. He carries a little pocket of guilt for using Kerry for the way he did and for the way she and Sam both found out. There was a good thing to come out of that incident in his garden; Kerry saw it immediately and bluntly tried to give him the push he needed. He should have taken her advice then and there.
Instead of retiring as she suggested, he ended up being promoted and transferred. Her own subsequent transfer took her out of his chain of command.
On previous visits, they had dinner and parted ways at the end of the night much to their mutual disappointment. They weren't ready. Apparently, eight years of studiously ignoring their feelings were harder to break than they thought. Many people assume things have been going on for years, and if not years, certainly since their little fishing trip. And they'd be right. At least with what's been going on in their head and their hearts. But acting on it and putting a voice to it is more difficult than people think.
Tonight's different.
He knew that when she walked into the bar a couple of blocks from her hotel after changing out of her blues. Black fitted jeans and a dark blue hooded top under the leather coat she's been favouring. He'd ordered two beers in between the time it took for her to spot him at the bar and the time for her to cross the room to him. As soon as the bartender brought their beers they moved to a booth in the back and allowed themselves to get lost in each other for a few hours, bantering back and forth.
When he tries to meet her eyes, he finds himself looking at her side profile while she's studying the passing buildings as the cab moves through the streets towards his building. He needs some reassurance that they both know what's going to happen once they get there. So, he shifts his hand a little to settle over hers.
Feeling the weight of his hand, she turns to him; her bright blue eyes shine even in the dimmed light of the cab and the street lamps. The certainty in her gaze belies the slight blush on her cheeks. Her fingers move under his, her thumb and index twisting slightly to grasp his thumb.
All too soon they pull up outside his building and he thrusts a couple of bills and a healthy tip at the driver who looks like he wasn't expecting anything from his quiet passengers who didn't make small talk with him let alone each other.
He gets out first and waits for her on the curb to slide across the seat and exit his side. His hands hang uselessly at his side and they flex nervously at his side as her feet touch the ground and she slips out from the vehicle. Closing the door behind her she gives him 'his' smile and they cross the short distance to his entrance.
He lets them in with his keys. Taking the elevator, they stand side by side listening to the cogs whir and the loud ping makes them both flinch when the doors open on his floor. This is ridiculous. One of them needs to break this silence. He's surprised he hasn't said anything stupid to remind them both who and where they are. It should be him; he decides as he slides his key in the lock. Lest it is her by uttering the 'Sir' word.
She hasn't said it once since they met at the bar but she hasn't relaxed quite enough to say his name yet either. Sound of it on her lips, the few times she's dared to utter it – far too rarely in his opinion –, brings him to attention faster than anyone else barking orders at him.
He pushes the door open, flipping the light on as he half turns to ask, "You want a drink or -."
He stops short when he realises how close she is, her eyes wide and locked on his face, her bottom lip pulled between her teeth apprehensively. Her hand hovers cautiously between them, ghosting over the fabric of his shirt. Her cheeks flush as he watches her face. Her chin ducks and she looks up at him with a tiny lift of her lips as she comes to her decision and her hand curls around the fabric of his shirt and tugs.
Their lips meet briefly at first, testing the feel of one another. Jack pulls away just enough to look into her eyes to get a proper read on her. There's no hesitation at all because she's already pulling him back in. Her nose nudges his and they kiss again. It's slow at first, reverent almost as they get used to it.
His idle hands rise to rest on her waist, drawing her closer to press her against him. Their mouths are fused and she tastes exactly as he remembers from that time when he kissed her during the loop. While her hand remains clasped around his shirt, her free one inches up his chest to cup his neck to hold him in place. Her thumb brushes his jaw, stroking lightly as her mouth opens a fraction to encourage him to deepen the kiss.
He complies eagerly and captures her soft sigh with his mouth. The small of her back pushes against his hands and for a second, he thinks she's pulling away but her hand still has a tight grip of him so he has no other option than to follow as she ends up leaning against the wall of his hall. He tries hard to resist the sensory overload except he knows it's a fight he will lose. He's more than willing to surrender after the years they've waited. He wants to remember this here and now.
This isn't how he'd imagined it. He always assumed they'd break, he'd break, one of the endless gazes and take each other in a frenzy. This slow exploration is only slightly awkward as they learn how to touch each other after having avoided this for nearly nine years. They can communicate without words under heavy fire in any situation but in the confines of his hall, where they're up close and have to rely on touch is new yet familiar all at once.
What he does know for certain is that they deserve more than a quick fumble against a beige painted wall. He urges her away from the wall, pulling away to rest his forehead on hers. Inwardly rejoicing when she stays in his embrace, catching her own breath while beaming up at him.
"We could…" he gestures in the vague direction of the living room.
"Okay," she agrees. Still neither moves.
Sam hasn't been here before so she doesn't know where to go but as he releases her, she slips her hand into his and leads the way down the short corridor, pausing first at the doorway to the open plan kitchen and living room. She keeps moving, tugging his hand as she continues to the door at the end of the hall.
This is her call.
Sam turns the handle and the door swings open to reveal the bedroom. She steps over the threshold without hesitation, turning into him as he follows. Their arms wind around each other as their mouths meet again, deepening immediately as her hands brush his neck to cradle his face.
Words aren't needed.
Somehow, they end up at the edge of the bed and she lowers herself bringing him with her. She lies back as he hovers over her. Hands begin to roam and his mouth breaks from hers to start trailing kisses along her jaw to her neck. He's rewarded with quiet moans as he laves attention on her pulse point. Not wanting to stay idle, her fingers start to flex on his shirts. Dragging them out of his jeans, her hands slip between the layers and his skin. His stomach contracts at the initial touch before relaxing into as she explores his body.
He's about to reciprocate when the shrill ring of his phone cuts through the dark. He jerks up at the sound and tries not to look at the sight of Sam lying beneath him, ruffled in ways that make him blush never mind the flush which currently residing on her face and travelling down her neck, disappearing beneath the collar of his hoody. He wants to follow it with his mouth to find out how far it goes.
Except his phone is still ringing and he sits up, just managing to support himself on his knees without making himself look pathetic. There's room for her to move but she stays where she is, soft and pliant, waiting for him to take the call and to pick up where they stopped. Blown away by the fact that she still wants him takes over his brain for a moment and too much time must lapse because she manages to have a coherent thought before he does – not that that surprises him – and reaches into the front pocket of his jeans pocket for his phone to hand it to him. He wishes they could ignore it but he has to at least to check who it is before thinking about hitting the reject button.
Glancing at the screen, he sighs. He's got to have some sort of radar for this. It's beyond Jack's thinking capabilities that the man knows the perfect time to call yet be so oblivious about what he's interrupting. It's some sort of bad joke trying to test Jack's patience. "Daniel."
At the mention of their friend, Sam lifts up onto her elbows. He's got to take this. He read Daniels' report on the Ori and he's been waiting for his call. There's a slim chance the archaeologist has lost track of time and time difference between Colorado and DC, but it's very slim.
As soon as Daniel starts yammering it's clear Jack will actually have to participate in the conversation and he can't do that sitting astride Sam. Sliding off the bed, he steps backwards till he can lean against the bedroom wall. Sam sits up straighter and watches him, waiting, from the edge and he's grateful this isn't making her head for the door.
But it sends a clear message to Jack. She's done running away from them; done letting regs standing in their way. They're holding their ground this time. They're ready, this is their time. This is why they left the SGC, to give them an option. They didn't even make the decision together even though they have the same reasons. It's something that fell into place. He's not going to pretend he isn't in love with her anymore – though this isn't the time for that kind of declaration. Maybe if they had woken up together in the morning…He snaps himself out of it and forces him to focus Daniel.
As Daniel continues with the latest developments, Sam digs her own phone from her pocket when it vibrates. She answers it quietly but he manages to discern the greeting of "Mitchell" and he knows she's getting the same call he is. Both calls last several minutes and by the end of them, neither can look at the other. By the end of them, she's going back to the SGC. Back into his chain of command.
With a heavy sigh, he puts his phone back in his pocket and sits next to her on the bed.
"I've been dodging Mitchell for months," Sam says. Jack knew the young Colonel wanted the team back together but he gives her a look to expand. "I like being at Area 51," she explains. "It's one mission," she adds. The tiny catch in her throat being his undoing.
"Has it ever been that simple?" It comes out harsher than he wants it to. Once one of them faces the Ori, it's unlikely either will walk away till their world is safe. "What about that Mark Nine you briefed us on this morning? That's gotta have some kick to it."
He read the specs and knows it's more powerful than anything else they have developed since they combined their tech with the alien tech. Maybe they only needed to shove one of them through the 'Gate and she'll be back in Nevada by the beginning of next week. Optimism has never been his strong suit. "It's something we can try right? Stop this now before…" It drags itself out for another eight years.
Sam winces. "I agree that we need to do something Sir, but what if it's not enough," she starts.
"Sir? Now?" His head snaps up only to stop when he sees the lone tear escape her eye.
"I think it has to be," she tells him softly. The other tears remain unshed but they make it clear this is the last thing she wants.
"Yeah, alright," he agrees just as softly. He has a right to be pissed about this, he has no right to direct it at her. She was there with him on the bed, responding in ways he'd barely let himself indulge in during his fantasies. "You know, I thought we were taking stuff out of a room, not putting more stuff in another one," he grouses.
"Me too," she smiles brokenly at him and has to look down at her clasped hands in her lap. The ones which were slipping under the hem of his shirt mere minutes ago.
"You know, Landry will be between us."
"Jack…"
He sighs. He prefers 'sir' to the gentle chiding in her voice.
It's selfish, he knows, yet he thinks they're owed something. Something small at least. A tiny concession. They can't go back to the way it was before, he refuses to let her leave when things are still ambiguous. And he refuses to let another Pete or Kerry get between them. "I'll retire."
"They won't let you." He hates the resignation in her voice. It's the sad truth.
His letter was typed, signed and sealed and oh, so ready to be read and accepted.
He had planned on telling everyone about his intention to retire at the cabin. At first, Jack wanted it to be just them.
Him and Sam.
He blurted out an invitation without thinking when she told him she broke it off with Shanahan. But when he'd seen the deer-in-headlights look on her face he casually tacked on that the guys would be joining them. After eight years, on the verge of declaring everything, they still needed a chaperone. He begged Teal'c and Daniel to come with, both only agreeing to be a buffer for moral support.
Only Hammond got there first and he asked something of Jack which tested his resolve. Jack envies the older man; he deserves this as much as any of them. Retirement is treating him well but Jack is stuck. Except neither of them trusted anyone else with the Home World Security job during the tenuous time. It also let him call in a favour with Landry to take over the SGC.
He is a good man and Jack trusts him with his people. It was easier to hand over when he knew his team had their own plans to move on; Jack knows he wouldn't have been able to retire or leave with them stuck in the field day-in-day-out. Daniel may have missed the ship to Atlantis but he could occupy himself till the next one; Teal'c is busy with the new Jaffa nation; while Sam is happy in the depths of Area 51 with her choice of doohickeys to play with.
The guys needed to hear his announcement as much and he didn't feel comfortable informing them in the briefing room just yet because Hammond hadn't informed everyone of his retirement plans and they didn't need whoever was trying to shut the SGC down to hear any whispers of the change in leadership.
"I want you to be in a position to know I'm okay." Her voice breaks through the quiet.
After Landry and the people in the 'Gate room, he'd one of the first to know she was safe.
She has a point. He wouldn't be privy to the classified mission logs if he was sitting at home twiddling his thumbs all day. He certainly wouldn't be able to waltz into the SGC for a trip through the Gate to check she was okay. He'd go nuts not knowing. The fact that she knows and concedes that for him gives him a little jolt. He hadn't even considered it. Her mind is quicker than his.
"You deserve to be someone's priority."
"You do too," Sam tells him. "For the time being, our main priority is the same."
"We're okay with that?" He closes his eyes at himself for repeating his own words. Her head touches his shoulder to comfort him. No, they're not okay with that. "Not now then, but one day," he promises. He winces, too ambiguous.
"One day," she echoes lifting her head to look him in the eyes; tears threatening to spill again and he can feel the tightening in his own throat. "This is temporary."
He kisses her then because he can't not. Not after tonight. Not after his promise. He only meant to rest his lips against hers one last time for the foreseeable future but her hand catches the back of his head and holds him in place. His mouth opens with she nudges it with her tongue and they're lost in each other as he slides one arm around her waist while her other winds its' way around his neck to join the other in his hair. They make it count before they draw back and their foreheads rest against one another as they catch their breath. This is as far as it can go for now.
"I should go," she tells him yet doesn't untangle herself from him. Removing temptation would be the sensible thing to do.
Screw sensible.
"Stay," he says. "What's one more thing to leave in this room? I'm going to have to move anyway after tonight."
"Mitchell says there's a briefing at twelve hundred tomorrow," she reminds him, indulging him with a soft smile at his joke.
"There's a transport leaving at oh eight hundred," Jack tells her. He remembers reading on at least one memo that was put in front of him today. "You'll get there in time."
Still, she looks doubtful.
"Stay," he implores her again. "Please." He can't let her walk away tonight.
Sam lets out a breath and nods. She wipes her cheek, recomposing herself. She slowly rises from the bed and pops the button on her jeans. Eye level with her navel, a thin strip of skin staring back at him as the denim gives way, he gulps. This isn't his best idea.
He starts to get up and say just that except her eyes pin him down as she lifts her hoody over her head without hesitation. She drops on the chair by the wardrobe and it's joined quickly by her jeans, leaving her in her underwear and a tank top. Sam then moves to the head of the bed to lift the sheets and climbs in, letting him decide whether or not to join her.
He quickly shucks his own jeans and overshirt. They've slept beside each other hundreds of times in bedrolls. They can do this. He sets his alarm for oh four hundred to give him time to drive her to her hotel to collect her things so she can be on the transport at Bolling before he slides in beside her and watches her hesitate as he gets comfortable. Opening his arm, he says, "Come 'ere."
She curls into his side and rests her head and a hand on his chest. It's a long moment before Sam breaks the silence. "This is temporary," she promises.
He places a kiss on her forehead but doesn't argue with her. Temporary has a way of becoming permanent. He doesn't want to admit he's filled with the same dread he felt when they first learnt about the Goa'uld. They'll find a way around this even if they have to be discreet. He won't lose her again. He doesn't want to think about it at this moment in time. He wants to hold the woman he's been in love with for years.
"Do me a favour tomorrow?" He asks out of the blue. She lifts her head to cock a Teal'c-esque eyebrow at him. "Call me when you get to the base, I want to let Hank know how this temporary assignment is going to play out."
88888
"Jack, Jack, Jack she practically invented the Mark Nine. You're the one who thinks we should use the damn thing. Why are you wasting valuable time saying no?"
"Over my dead body Hank," Jack replies.
"I've read enough of your SG-1 mission reports to know there were times when no one else but Samantha Carter could have pulled your ass out of the fire. Well, this is one of those ti-." He turns and finds the blonde Colonel standing at attention in his doorway.
"Reporting as ordered Sir," she says loud enough for Jack to hear.
"She get there already?" Jack asks, his smirk evident in his voice.
"Yeah, she's standing right here." Hank turns away from her briefly. "You're a funny man, Jack. Very funny."
END
Author Note - I know this last bit doesn't quite fit with the rest of the piece but I wanted to add it as I loved this scene. I would love to hear any feedback you have. DM's are open too.