A/N: Hmmm… Anyone else think this might be a good time to heat things up?

Chapter 4

"Oh, for cryin' out loud, Carter. I don't bite." Holding one edge of the half un-zipped sleeping bag open, Jack's exasperated tone left little doubt as to his mood.

Staring at the microscopic space she was expected to sleep in, Sam felt the little courage she'd manage to muster flee like rats from a sinking ship. "Uh, sir, I'm not sure this is going to work."

Jack regarded her dispassionately. "Get in the damn sleeping bag." Regardless of the wisdom of his choice, Jack was not letting her off the hook. He had no idea why he was feeling so stubborn about his decision, but then, he'd never really been a big fan of examining his motives too closely.

Of course, staring at his slightly-rumpled, wide-eyed second-in-command as she studied him in breathless anxiety did clue him in to at least one of his motivations.

She was fairly adorable at the moment.

Acknowledging that particular thought should have knocked at least a little sense into him – after all, curling up beside her for several hours was bound to be something like a combination of cloud nine and Chinese water torture. The last thing he should be doing was commanding her to defy her better judgment and cross a boundary which, for the past seven years, had served them reasonably well. And yet, faced with the alternative of letting her pull away, Jack found he was unable to give into common sense.

He finally had a logical excuse to hold her for a few hours. And he wasn't going to let that opportunity slip away without a damn good fight.

Sam, on the other hand, was feeling more panicked by the moment. "Seriously, sir, I'm not sure we're both going to fit in there." Examining the space once again, Sam swallowed visibly. Climbing into that bedroll was going to mean plastering herself against him shamelessly. And she had no idea what she might betray to him under such intimate circumstances.

Lips quirking into a half-smile, Jack gazed at her steadily. "We've done this before, Carter. We'll fit."

Sam's brow wrinkled in confusion. They'd done this before?

Seeing her befuddled disbelief, Jack rolled his eyes. "Antarctica? Sub-zero temperatures? Near-death experience?" He paused. "Ring any bells?"

A look of understanding flashed in her eyes. "Oh, right." Then, contemplating his words further, she continued to object. "But that situation was totally different. You were hypothermic and bleeding internally. We had to stay close, or we would have frozen to death." Not to mention the fact that, in Antarctica, Jack had been so feeble and injured, any thoughts of extra-curricular activities would have been ridiculous. Hell, back then she'd still believed that her attraction to him was a simple, passing infatuation.

Now, of course, she knew better.

Jack glared at her stubbornly. "I hate to break it to you, but sub-zero or not, it's still cold enough down here to substantially lower your body temperature – especially," he added, looking pointedly at her damp hair, "if you're wet." His brown eyes remained determined. "Hypothermia could kill you here just as easily as it could have in Antarctica."

He was right, of course. Strategically, it made sense for her to sleep in the bedroll. And, she acknowledged silently, had she not been such a stubborn idiot earlier, she could have gracefully accepted his offer to take the sleeping bag and let him bed down under the emergency blanket, thus avoiding this situation. However, sheer guilt over the part she'd already played in this disastrous situation still made it impossible for her to regret that choice.

And so, here she stood, staring at the few inches of space between her solid, warm CO and the zipper of the bedroll, wondering how the hell she was going to make it through the next few hours without losing her mind.

Finally, the soldier in her kicked into gear. Pushing aside her emotional objections, she took a deep breath, got down on the floor, and wiggled into the very snug space.

For a moment, all Jack could do was hold his breath. He'd been the one to bring up Antarctica, but even he had to acknowledge that this situation was nothing like those frantic, painful hours six years ago. Instead of clinging to a warm body for survival as he had on the glacier, he now found himself pressed up against Carter – his Carter – for far less easily defined reasons. The space inside the sleeping bag was pitifully small, leaving no choice but to tuck her intimately against him. As she wiggled a bit, trying to find a comfortable position, Jack was suddenly struck with a realization that, had it hit a few minutes earlier, might have changed his mind about their sleeping arrangements.

One small sleeping bag plus himself and one soft, curvy, wiggling Carter equaled not only emotional torture, but distinct physical agony as well. He had no idea how he was going to hide his rapidly-growing affliction all night, but with his Beretta lying on the ground beside them, it would be pretty obvious that this time, she was not feeling his sidearm. Silently cursing his lack of control over that particular reflex, Jack shifted his position as best as he could, and gritted his teeth, waiting for her to stop moving.

Finally, Sam seemed to abandon her reservations and gave into her instincts. In moments, she found herself settled against him spoon-style, so that her head was tucked beneath his chin, and her back was nestled against his chest. Almost unconsciously, his free arm wrapped around her middle, holding her snugly in the spot that seemed to have been made for her.

Breath catching in her throat, Sam felt an odd jumble of emotions. In some ways, lying curled beside him was both natural and familiar. She'd faced death beside this man, knew him inside and out. In some ways, he was closer to her than her own family was. She couldn't remember a time when she'd felt this grounded and content.

And yet, on the other hand, the novelty of the moment was also crystal-clear. How many years had she dreamed about being held against him like this? How many times had she cursed the damned frat regs for denying her this chance? Now that the moment was actually upon her, she found herself overwhelmed by how perfectly right it felt.

Unexpectedly, Sam felt the hot rush of tears in her throat. Glad she was turned away from him, She squeezed her eyes tightly, and willed the emotions away. This was why she'd been terrified to climb into this bedroll. Now that she was here, how the hell could she ever forget the experience, and go back to life as it had to be?

Almost as if he sensed her silent pain, Jack's arm tightened around her waist for the briefest of moments. "Night, Carter." His voice was familiar and comforting, full of the same quiet strength she'd come to depend on for so many years.

Drawing from that strength, Sam sighed softly and let go of her apprehensions. Morning would be soon enough to face those demons. For now, she would enjoy her little corner of heaven while the experience was still available. Closing her eyes, she whispered her reply automatically.

"Night, Jack."

In her weary condition, she didn't even realize she'd called him by his first name.

From a dark, wonderfully warm corner of the universe, Sam felt the gentle tug of something tender and familiar on her heartstrings. Turning reflexively toward this unnamed source of comfort, she sighed happily and wrapped herself around its mellow strength. Though she had no conscious notion of where, exactly, she was, her heart had no doubt she was home.

The pleasant sensation of a warm, lithe body wrapping itself around him was more than enough to bring Jack to a state of muzzy semi-consciousness. Mind, body, and soul all agreed instantly that it had been far too long since he'd experienced anything quite this exquisite. Reflexively, he pulled the delightfully soft curves closer in a display of tender possessiveness, reveling in the stark contrast between her body and his. Feeling her curl into his embrace, he smiled in satisfied approval when his actions were rewarded with a series of soft, delicate kisses along the line of his jaw.

Still floating in the misty limbo between dream and reality, Sam's heart immediately recognized the arms around her and responded enthusiastically. Crushed against the body she'd coveted for so long, she reveled in the gruff sensation of his hair-roughened skin on her lips. Inquisitively, her mouth followed a delicious path from his chin to his earlobe, stopping only to nibble at the particularly sensitive spot where his neck and jaw came together.

As her wicked mouth continued to tease and torment, Jack inhaled sharply and was filled with a cherished and familiar scent. Smiling in recognition, he reacted automatically. Shifting with remarkable speed for someone who was still mostly asleep, he pulled her forcefully upward until that delightfully soft mouth was directly in line with his. Without a second thought, he closed the gap between them with a gruff noise of surrender.

Whether it was the sound of his soft growl, or the shock of their lips meeting, something about their primal, instinctive kiss yanked both Sam and Jack instantly into full consciousness.

Painfully aroused and breathing raggedly, Jack opened his eyes to see Sam staring up at him in a similarly breathless and uncomfortable fashion. His lips, still millimeters from hers, tingled with remembered sensation, and his arms continued to clutch her tightly against his body. Eyes locked in heated understanding, there could be no mistake as to what was occurring between them.

For an instant, they stayed that way, silently communicating their mutual need for each other; allowing the reality of the situation to set in. Neither of them, it seemed, wanted to deprive the other of a chance to call a halt to this unplanned encounter.

Then, as if by mutual agreement, Sam's hips shifted slightly and brought their lower bodies together in an explosion of electricity.

Jack watched in fascination as her eyes slammed shut with a tiny gasp of pleasure. Suddenly desperate to know how else she would respond to his touch, he tugged her t-shirt from the waist of her pants and slid his hand along the delicate skin of her ribcage.

Head swimming with sensations, Sam whimpered softly as she felt his warm touch on her bare flesh. As his fingers continued to caress their way upward, she reflexively opened her eyes, seeking his gaze to anchor herself upon.

The overwhelmed tempest he saw churning in her eyes was enough to momentarily still Jack's hand. He responded instantly. "Sam," he murmured, looking steadily into her shaken gaze, "we can stop right here if you want." His tender expression left no doubt as to his sincerity.

Suddenly blinking back tears, Sam reached up to caress his face. As she did so, her eyes seemed drawn to the contrast of her long, pale fingers brushing against his tanned, chiseled jaw. After a moment, she returned her attention to his patient gaze. "Is this really happening?" she asked quietly.

Hearing the combination of amazement and apprehension in her voice, he turned his head slightly and placed a soft kiss in the palm of her hand. Then, meeting her wide, crystal-blue eyes, he responded gently, "Only if you want it to."

At that, something between a laugh and a sob tore free from her throat. Closing her eyes, she braced herself against a tidal wave of emotion that coursed through her. "If I want it?" Opening her eyes again, she looked tenderly into his face. "I'm not sure I can draw breath without this," she whispered.

Feeling as though something had broken loose in his chest, Jack leaned forward and placed a heart-stoppingly sweet kiss on her lips. "Then, don't try to," he murmured quietly. "Whatever you want tonight, Sam…" His eyes blazed with intensity. "It's yours."

Sam heard the qualifier in his statement, whether he'd intended to put it there or not. The key word was 'tonight.' Neither of them knew what the morning would bring, and implying otherwise would be dishonest. She was well aware that these moments, pressed against his solid strength, might be the only occasion she'd have to experience life in his arms. Looking into his fierce, familiar gaze, she tried to determine if one night of this would be enough for her.

In an instant, she had her answer.

If one night with Jack O'Neill was all she'd be allowed in her lifetime, then she would take it and cherish every moment. It was, after all, one night more than she'd been granted so far.

Drawing a deep breath, she smiled softly into his patient gaze and replied decisively. "Then, tonight, Jack," she whispered, eyes ablaze with longing, "I want you."