Author's Note: Another chapter, just in time for the weekend. Jack is an insecure guy behind all the bravado, but these two can work it out together.

If you have a moment to leave a review, I'd really appreciate it.


It took every ounce of Sam's willpower to lift her lips from his, even though they were both breathing raggedly. She was now lying on top of him on the couch, with her knees straddling his hips, and her thin sweater riding up above her midriff. She could feel him pressing into her, and one of his hands was low on her back, under the waistband of her jeans, keeping their bodies in contact.

"Jack," she said breathlessly, and he made a sound very much like a growl as he kissed her again. She moaned into his mouth, and then felt his other hand tangle deeper in her hair.

"Jack," she said again after a moment, more insistently, moving one hand to his chest, and at last he relaxed his head back onto the couch.

"I know," he said, sounding so petulant that she giggled again. "Not helping, Sam," he added, with humour evident in his voice.

"Sorry," she said, and he understood that she meant it in at least two different ways. She rested her forehead on his again for a moment, and then reluctantly pushed herself up to a sitting position, still straddling his lap, and she felt his hands move to her waist.

Jack remained lying on his back, looking up at her with twinkling eyes. She smiled softly at him, and he thought that she was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen. Her blonde hair was mussed, her cheeks were flushed and her lips were full and red from kissing. Her blue eyes sparkled with a mixture of contentment, desire, trust, and a strong emotion that he didn't dare think about too much yet.

Damn, he thought. Even if she walked out right now, it was worth waiting six years. A warm smile spread across his lips, mirroring her own.

"What are you thinking?" she asked, running her palm across his chest.

"This," he said solemnly, "is the best couch ever."

Her laughter rang out across the room, and she nodded her head in agreement. "Yes it is."

After a moment, she glanced down at her hands, now both lying flat on his chest. She opened her mouth to speak, but hesitated.

"Sam, I know," he said gently. "We do need to talk."

She looked up at him, grateful and also apologetic. "I... you know that I want to keep doing this," she said quietly. "It's just important that we figure out what's happening, before we go too much further."

"You're right," he said, touched that she was worried about his reaction to her putting on the brakes. "But no regrets so far?"

"I could never regret kissing you, Jack," she said. "I've waited so long to be here with you like this. It's crazy that we waited so long. I don't even really know what we've been thinking all these years."

He reached up and stroked her cheek gently for a moment, nodding in silent agreement, then he rested his hands on her hips again. "Let me up," he said softly, and she shifted off him. He sat up and swung his legs off the couch and to the floor, reaching for his beer. Sam sat back down beside him, also taking a mouthful from her own bottle.

"So," Jack said, clearing his throat and contemplating the glass bottle in his hands. "Uh... I'm not totally sure what to say here. I mean, I'm glad we're doing this. That we did this, I mean. What we've... been doing. I hope we're going to keep doing it. This."

She smiled at his awkwardness, keeping silent because she knew he hadn't finished. He cleared his throat again, glancing briefly towards her. He saw her smile and seemed reassured, then again focused his attention on the beer bottle.

"This is... uh...," he began hesitantly, and then tailed off, subconsciously reaching behind his head to nervously mess up his own hair. He sighed, frustrated at his own inability to find the right words. "Hell, Sam, this is probably the best night of my life since Charlie was born, y'know."

Oh god, she thought, feeling tears instantly spring into her eyes. It was somehow so utterly Jack O'Neill. He was a private man at the best of times, and never more so than on the topic of his son. She expected it would take a long time before he would fully open up to her about Charlie, if he ever did. But now, without even really thinking about it, he had made this enormous statement - given her this compliment that was so loaded with meaning - that she was certain her heart had skipped at least a couple of beats.

It's all going to work out, she realised. All the questions they still had to answer together would be answered. Whatever was going to happen would happen. But it would all work out. If he could say that to her, here and now - if he could feel that - then what else was there to worry about? Leave it to Jack O'Neill to resolve her doubts about his feelings for her and his ability to let her in, with a single sentence.

He glanced around at her again, suddenly anxious. "Uh, I'm not sure that came out right, but I mean it. Don't be mad. I didn't mean to bring up that stuff. I just meant... I'm happy here. With you."

Tears were rolling down her cheeks, and she saw him notice, and then he suddenly looked stricken. She found it impossible to imagine how she could ever love anyone more than she loved this man.

"Don't be upset, Sam," he pleaded, quickly putting down the beer bottle and laying a hand on her knee. The regret in his voice broke her heart, and her hand immediately covered his.

"Jack," she said, her voice watery with tears but also firm, "Listen to me."

She saw the concern in his eyes, but he nodded slowly. She squeezed his hand reassuringly before taking a deep breath and continuing. "You really have no idea what a wonderful man you are, do you?"

His expression changed to one of slight puzzlement, then quickly to a cautiously optimistic half-smile, and she didn't know whether she'd ever be able to stop crying. She took another shuddering breath, and looked him in the eyes again.

"You make me so happy, Jack," she said simply. "You made me happy before tonight, just getting to be with you every day, and now that I'm here with you like this..." Her voice cracked, and he reached up to wipe a tear away.

"So we're still good," he said. It wasn't quite a question, but she knew that a part of him was asking.

"We're still good," she replied, smiling through her tears. She lifted her hands to his face. "This is the best night I can remember."

"Sam?" he said.

"Yes?" she replied, smiling softly.

"Thanks for making the first move." He examined her face carefully, and saw that she understood. "I think it was always gonna be up to you."

"I know," she replied, squeezing his hand again.

They sat in silence for a few moments, both considering what to say next. Jack's mind was circling around the fact that she'd been the one to finally break the status quo. It really was always going to be her, because she has the most to lose, he thought. There was her career to be considered, and his age. Her chance of a family. Her reputation.

He sighed, drawing a glance from her, and he knew she had some idea of what he was thinking. The least I can do is put my cards on the table, he realised.

"Sam, if we do this," he began, feeling her hand abruptly tighten around his - "and we are doing this," he smiled, seeing her relax again - "then I hope you know I'm in it for the long haul. I've been dancing around this for too long, and I'm too damned old to beat around the bush. If this keeps... working out... for both of us, then I'll be talking to Hammond."

He glanced at her, and saw only acceptance and that strong emotion again, so he continued.

"I can take things slow, but I'm not gonna pretend about what I want. I want us to... wake up together. Someday I want to put a ring on your finger. I want to paint a kitchen that's ours. I want one of those little cups with two toothbrushes. I just want to be clear on that."

Her eyes were shining. She didn't trust her voice, so she simply turned fully into him, her arms going around his neck. "That's exactly what I want too, Jack," she said into his neck. Thank you, thank you, thank you.

"Listen, Sam," he said quietly just above her shoulder, stroking her hair rhythmically, "Are you really sure about this? I know I keep asking. But I'm not exactly getting any younger here, my knees are half shot, and I've got my fair share of baggage-"

She loosened her embrace only slightly, so she could look at him. His words had tailed off when she moved, and he was about to continue when she kissed him - just once, gently. "Just you, Jack. It's always been you," she said, and he smiled.

"OK," he replied simply. "Back atcha."

Jack settled back into the couch with Sam beside him, and she swung her legs up and across his, sitting sideways. She held one of his hands in both of hers, seemingly fascinated with it. They enjoyed several minutes of comfortable silence before she spoke again.

"What are we going to do about work?" she asked, in a small voice.

"I think it's better if we keep going," he replied. "Otherwise they'd get suspicious pretty fast."

She swatted his captive hand, and gave him a look that was meant to be exasperation but was much closer to amusement. "You know what I mean," she said.

He sighed. "Yeah, I do." He was silent for a few moments, and when he spoke it again it was with a determination she hadn't heard in a while. "They owe us, Sam. And they need us - both of us. We've given everything for this planet."

She nodded. He was right. The regulations weren't the ultimate answer to every question about their lives, even if it had seemed that way before.

"There's no way it's wrong for you and I to be together," he said, full of conviction, and she gave him one of her rarest smiles.

"So what do we do?" she asked, after another moment. "Do we talk to General Hammond? Can he talk to the Joint Chiefs, or the President?"

Jack tilted his head to one side. "Maybe," he said thoughtfully. "He's got to have been expecting it. Everyone on the damn base wonders about us. And if the answer is no, I'll retire. To hell with them. If they want me back, I'll be a civilian."

She watched his face as he spoke, and then dropped her gaze to his large hand held between her two smaller, much more slender ones. "You'd actually do it?" she asked, already knowing the answer, and he nodded.

"Besides," he continued, "it's not like we don't have some influence. I happen to know a little gray guy. Supreme Commander of a big honkin' fleet of alien spaceships. They even named one after me. Which you blew up. Since we're sharing here, I'm still sore about that."

She laughed, and he grinned at how it made her eyes sparkle. "Sorry," she said.

He gave an exaggerated shrug. "I didn't really like the colour anyway," he quipped. "I'm gonna ask Thor to make the next one hot-rod red."

"Good choice," she replied, using her thumb to trace the line of each of his fingers. "So we're doing this."

"Finally," he said, using his free hand to tilt her chin up towards him and capturing her lips in a gentle kiss.

"What about Daniel and Teal'c?" she asked, licking her lips without realising it and seeing his pupils dilate in response.

"I'm really only into blondes," he replied, closing the short distance between them once more.