Author's note: It's not a sequel! It's an... um... what was that word I used
earlier...? A continuation. Yeah, that's it. An add on.
~*~
They spent the rest of the day on the couch. Sam stretched out and with her head in Jack's lap, and Jack with his feet up on the coffee table. No one called them that day, and no one came by. It was relaxing for both of them – although more so for Sam – and it was a good chance for them to spend time together without having anything pressing to do. It was also a good chance for Jack to remind Carter without words just how much he loved her – in case she had any doubts. His left hand was constantly touching her. Rubbing her back or shoulder, or caressing her cheek, he made sure that she understood he was exactly where he wanted to be. He'd even offered to read one of her hellaciously complicated books to her. Which she'd declined with a small smile. She was content to lie there. And so was he.
Dinner was another quick and easy meal. Baked potatoes and all the trimmings. Sam didn't mind the simple menu; she was glad there wasn't anything too spicy or salty. Her stomach was a little queasy from the medications she was taking for infection, and the soothing foods were perfect. Of course, Fraiser had told Daniel and Teal'c what sort of foods to buy, which had made it easier for the doctor to control what Sam ate without her or Jack realizing it.
"Want to watch a movie?" Jack asked her as he cleaned up the kitchen. (This was accomplished by simply throwing away the tinfoil that the potatoes had been baked in and putting away the sour cream and other toppings, so it was hardly a chore.)
"Did you rent some?"
"No. We'd have to watch a TV movie."
Sam frowned. She hated movies that were interrupted with commercials. Jack caught the frown, and shrugged, "Or we could watch a game. Mariners are playing the Rockies tonight."
Even though he mentioned it casually, Carter knew he wanted to watch the game. Otherwise he wouldn't have known who was playing. She nodded, more than willing to do what he wanted to do. She wasn't all that big a fan of baseball, but she did like to watch the pitchers adjusting their cups, and loved it when the cameramen caught someone picking his nose. She just had to wonder what their mothers were thinking when they saw their sons doing that sort of stuff on national TV.
"Let's watch it in bed, though, okay?" She asked. That way, when she fell asleep during the game – which she would, and always did – then she wouldn't have to get up and go to bed.
Jack nodded, and closed the fridge.
"I'll make some popcorn, then. You go get ready for bed."
He made her a pot of tea while the popcorn was popping away in the microwave. Night-time blend that she was so fond of. She kept a ready stash of it at his house, just for the nights that she stayed over. He burnt his fingers opening the popcorn bag, and muttered curses the entire time he was pouring the popcorn into a bowl, then set her tea and an empty mug on a bed tray and carried it down the hall and into the bedroom.
Sam was in bed, propped up with a couple of pillows and already flipping the channels on the television, looking for the game for him. She was wearing one of his t-shirts, an old worn out Air Force shirt that she'd pretty much claimed as her own. He put the tray over her legs and took the opportunity to steal a kiss, which she returned gently.
"Tea and popcorn," he told her. "I'm going to go shower really quick."
She nodded.
"You'll be okay?"
"Yes."
He kissed her again, and headed for the bathroom, admonishing her not to eat all the popcorn before he got back. Sam smiled and poured a cup of tea, appreciating the aroma, and the warm feeling she had that he'd been thoughtful enough to make some. Especially since he hated the stuff himself. God, she loved him when he did little, dumb stuff like that. She felt tears threatening, then stinging her eyes, and brushed them away impatiently. Crying because he was nice to her? What next?
Almost as though he'd been afraid to leave her alone too long, Jack was back in just minutes, still drenched from the shower and with only a towel wrapped around his waist. His hair was plastered to his head, and was still dripping onto his chest and shoulders. The first thing he did was look at her, and she knew her eyes must have been red, because he instantly had a concerned look in his own.
"I'm okay," she said, quickly.
He didn't look convinced. Sam tried to distract him.
"You're dripping all over the floor."
He looked down, saw that she was right, then starting drying his hair with his towel, which was a definite distraction for Carter.
"You're sure you're okay?" He asked, not even aware of what he was doing.
"I'm okay," she repeated, taking a sip of tea, but not taking her eyes off him.
Jack finally realized what she watching, and he flushed slightly. Not because he was shy around her – far from it! – but because he wasn't sure how to deal with the idea of being intimate with her. It wasn't something he had discussed with Fraiser. And it wasn't something he planned to discuss with Fraiser. He wasn't sure if Sam would even be interested in sleeping in the same bed with him until she'd suggested that they watch the ball game together in bed, much less being intimate with him. Which wasn't the same as sleeping in the same bed.
He wrapped his now wet towel around his waist again, and sat down on the edge of his bed, watching her, and wondering whether or not he should bring it up.
"Don't stop on my account," Sam told him.
"I'm dry."
She reached out and ran her fingers along his damp chest and belly, something that would make Jack's heart stop any day.
"Too bad."
Sam was flirting with him. She knew it was fairly shameless, but she'd wanted to distract him and it was the easiest way she knew how. He was looking so seriously at her. His brown eyes were so easy for her to read when he allowed them to be, and Jack rarely put up any shields with Sam any more. He didn't have to hide his feelings from her, and hadn't in a long time. Sometimes, like now, he even forgot to when he wanted to. Which made it so clear that when he sat on the edge of the bed, he was more concerned than he had been when he came into the room and found her looking weepy- eyed.
"Sam."
"Jack." She didn't want to know what he was worried about. She didn't want to talk about anything just then. Carter just wanted him to hold her. "Come to bed. Please?"
It was so ambiguous. Come to bed. Come to bed and hold me? Come to bed and watch the game? Come to bed and make love to me until I can't see straight? He still wasn't any closer to knowing what she wanted or needed from him, so he did what she asked. He lost the towel, and slid into bed, feeling about as uncertain as he'd ever felt.
Sam took care of that for him. She slid closer to him, careful not to spill the tray that was on her lap, and cuddled up beside him. Jack put his arm around her and held her against his side, assuming that she'd wanted to be held. She did. But she wanted more just then, and when her hand started tracing gentle patterns along his inner thigh, O'Neill knew that he wasn't going to have to discuss this with Frasier. He leaned down and kissed her, and gave himself up to her, letting her take control so he wouldn't do anything she didn't want, and giving her whatever she needed from him.
~*~
They spent the rest of the day on the couch. Sam stretched out and with her head in Jack's lap, and Jack with his feet up on the coffee table. No one called them that day, and no one came by. It was relaxing for both of them – although more so for Sam – and it was a good chance for them to spend time together without having anything pressing to do. It was also a good chance for Jack to remind Carter without words just how much he loved her – in case she had any doubts. His left hand was constantly touching her. Rubbing her back or shoulder, or caressing her cheek, he made sure that she understood he was exactly where he wanted to be. He'd even offered to read one of her hellaciously complicated books to her. Which she'd declined with a small smile. She was content to lie there. And so was he.
Dinner was another quick and easy meal. Baked potatoes and all the trimmings. Sam didn't mind the simple menu; she was glad there wasn't anything too spicy or salty. Her stomach was a little queasy from the medications she was taking for infection, and the soothing foods were perfect. Of course, Fraiser had told Daniel and Teal'c what sort of foods to buy, which had made it easier for the doctor to control what Sam ate without her or Jack realizing it.
"Want to watch a movie?" Jack asked her as he cleaned up the kitchen. (This was accomplished by simply throwing away the tinfoil that the potatoes had been baked in and putting away the sour cream and other toppings, so it was hardly a chore.)
"Did you rent some?"
"No. We'd have to watch a TV movie."
Sam frowned. She hated movies that were interrupted with commercials. Jack caught the frown, and shrugged, "Or we could watch a game. Mariners are playing the Rockies tonight."
Even though he mentioned it casually, Carter knew he wanted to watch the game. Otherwise he wouldn't have known who was playing. She nodded, more than willing to do what he wanted to do. She wasn't all that big a fan of baseball, but she did like to watch the pitchers adjusting their cups, and loved it when the cameramen caught someone picking his nose. She just had to wonder what their mothers were thinking when they saw their sons doing that sort of stuff on national TV.
"Let's watch it in bed, though, okay?" She asked. That way, when she fell asleep during the game – which she would, and always did – then she wouldn't have to get up and go to bed.
Jack nodded, and closed the fridge.
"I'll make some popcorn, then. You go get ready for bed."
He made her a pot of tea while the popcorn was popping away in the microwave. Night-time blend that she was so fond of. She kept a ready stash of it at his house, just for the nights that she stayed over. He burnt his fingers opening the popcorn bag, and muttered curses the entire time he was pouring the popcorn into a bowl, then set her tea and an empty mug on a bed tray and carried it down the hall and into the bedroom.
Sam was in bed, propped up with a couple of pillows and already flipping the channels on the television, looking for the game for him. She was wearing one of his t-shirts, an old worn out Air Force shirt that she'd pretty much claimed as her own. He put the tray over her legs and took the opportunity to steal a kiss, which she returned gently.
"Tea and popcorn," he told her. "I'm going to go shower really quick."
She nodded.
"You'll be okay?"
"Yes."
He kissed her again, and headed for the bathroom, admonishing her not to eat all the popcorn before he got back. Sam smiled and poured a cup of tea, appreciating the aroma, and the warm feeling she had that he'd been thoughtful enough to make some. Especially since he hated the stuff himself. God, she loved him when he did little, dumb stuff like that. She felt tears threatening, then stinging her eyes, and brushed them away impatiently. Crying because he was nice to her? What next?
Almost as though he'd been afraid to leave her alone too long, Jack was back in just minutes, still drenched from the shower and with only a towel wrapped around his waist. His hair was plastered to his head, and was still dripping onto his chest and shoulders. The first thing he did was look at her, and she knew her eyes must have been red, because he instantly had a concerned look in his own.
"I'm okay," she said, quickly.
He didn't look convinced. Sam tried to distract him.
"You're dripping all over the floor."
He looked down, saw that she was right, then starting drying his hair with his towel, which was a definite distraction for Carter.
"You're sure you're okay?" He asked, not even aware of what he was doing.
"I'm okay," she repeated, taking a sip of tea, but not taking her eyes off him.
Jack finally realized what she watching, and he flushed slightly. Not because he was shy around her – far from it! – but because he wasn't sure how to deal with the idea of being intimate with her. It wasn't something he had discussed with Fraiser. And it wasn't something he planned to discuss with Fraiser. He wasn't sure if Sam would even be interested in sleeping in the same bed with him until she'd suggested that they watch the ball game together in bed, much less being intimate with him. Which wasn't the same as sleeping in the same bed.
He wrapped his now wet towel around his waist again, and sat down on the edge of his bed, watching her, and wondering whether or not he should bring it up.
"Don't stop on my account," Sam told him.
"I'm dry."
She reached out and ran her fingers along his damp chest and belly, something that would make Jack's heart stop any day.
"Too bad."
Sam was flirting with him. She knew it was fairly shameless, but she'd wanted to distract him and it was the easiest way she knew how. He was looking so seriously at her. His brown eyes were so easy for her to read when he allowed them to be, and Jack rarely put up any shields with Sam any more. He didn't have to hide his feelings from her, and hadn't in a long time. Sometimes, like now, he even forgot to when he wanted to. Which made it so clear that when he sat on the edge of the bed, he was more concerned than he had been when he came into the room and found her looking weepy- eyed.
"Sam."
"Jack." She didn't want to know what he was worried about. She didn't want to talk about anything just then. Carter just wanted him to hold her. "Come to bed. Please?"
It was so ambiguous. Come to bed. Come to bed and hold me? Come to bed and watch the game? Come to bed and make love to me until I can't see straight? He still wasn't any closer to knowing what she wanted or needed from him, so he did what she asked. He lost the towel, and slid into bed, feeling about as uncertain as he'd ever felt.
Sam took care of that for him. She slid closer to him, careful not to spill the tray that was on her lap, and cuddled up beside him. Jack put his arm around her and held her against his side, assuming that she'd wanted to be held. She did. But she wanted more just then, and when her hand started tracing gentle patterns along his inner thigh, O'Neill knew that he wasn't going to have to discuss this with Frasier. He leaned down and kissed her, and gave himself up to her, letting her take control so he wouldn't do anything she didn't want, and giving her whatever she needed from him.