TITLE: B.C.
CLASSIFICATION: Short Story
AUTHOR: A. M. Richardson
SPOILERS: Set S7, but no real spoilers
RATING: R – Some very, VERY mild sexual situations
Smut/Ship/a little mild swearing
PAIRINGS: Sam/Jack
WARNINGS: Smut and rock climbing.
SUMMARY: Before Carter.
DISCLAIMER: All publicly recognizable characters and places are the property of MGM, World Gekko Corp. and Double Secret Productions. This piece of fan fiction was created for entertainment not monetary purposes and no infringement on copyrights or trademarks was intended.
E-MAIL: audrich08 @ aol.com
THANKS: *Smooches* to Sarae64 for the beta-by-return.
AUTHOR'S NOTES: This is the fourth instalment in the 'Enough is Enough' series.
There is also an NC-17 version of this story, which you are welcome to email me for (although over 17's only, please, so include a disclaimer)
******
Jack O'Neill slammed his F-350 door closed and activated the locking mechanism. He slouched his hands in his pockets, whistling happily. It was 0115 hours and he was finally home after being off world for two weeks straight. He smiled as he remembered another Jack O'Neill who would often think of excuses to prevent him from going home. That was BC. Before Carter. Before, it would have been a lonely adjustment to Earth time, watching Simpson's videos and swigging Buds. Now it was home made lasagne, Chardonnay and a warm bed. Very warm. Life was good.
He huffed out a foggy breath against the freezing weather and crunched across the tinkling grass to his front door. That was odd. Sam always left the hall light on for him, but the house was in darkness. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up as squinted in the wan streetlamp light to locate and insert the correct key into the lock. Something was definitely off. He turned the latch carefully and stepped inside his hallway. No lights. Silence. He edged along the wall towards the bedroom. *Their* bedroom. They were a *they* now.
Suddenly, he felt his neck being roughly pulled from the left and his body manhandled into the master bedroom. He tried to shout, but already there was a hand at his mouth stifling any sound. Not that it would have helped; the neighbors were away a lot. He felt himself slammed up against the closet door, which knocked the breath out of him for a second, but only a second. When hands came up to his neck, he was already executing countering moves. His left leg hooked under his assailant's left to follow through a throw, but they were too quick and grabbed at his neck again so the two of them toppled backwards onto the bed, Jack on top.
He could feel fast, hot breath against his face, then a hand snaked up the back of his head and pulled him down so their mouths met. The tongue that entered his mouth was desperate, and somehow, his lip was nipped. Hands clawed at his back, seeking a goal. There it was; his shirttail was pulled free and the hands found his naked flesh. Jack was trying to free himself from the right sleeve of his jacket, which was by now halfway down his arm and restricting his movement, but then he found himself being pulled tighter and then rolled over onto his back whereupon strong legs straddled his own, pinning the tangled arm under his own body.
"Jesus!" he exclaimed, eliciting a savage yank on the waistband of his pants for his vocalisation. Then the unmistakable sound of a zipper being pulled forced him to grab his attacker's head with his free hand and drive it down to his own. Tongues were sucking and sliding as hands slid beneath his own armpits and lifted him off the bed a little way. He was able to shrug off his jacket and turn his attention to the buttons blocking his next move. Jack tried with his now free fingers to undo the dainty obstructions, but the urgent pressure in his pants got the better of him and he pulled the fabric edges apart so forcefully he could hear tortoiseshell pinging all around him. His hands found warm breasts straight away so he set to work, his palms cupping mounds, silvery cream in the gloom. Under his right hand, beneath his assailant's ribs, he could feel a strong pulsation:
Lub-dub. Lub-dub. Lub-dub.
A soft exhalation sounded in his ear. Abruptly, his pants were tugged roughly over his hips, causing him to moan and half sit awkwardly up. The other hands stilled at that, while his own caressed soft cheeks in the dark. He heard another deep sigh; a contented sigh, and his mouth was again taken by another. As Jack lay back onto to bed covers, he felt a gentle hand guide him and a warm weight settled over his legs.
He waited before he began to move. Once the hand was braced by his shoulder, he started. The movements were subtle at first, and then gathered in speed and intensity.
A whisper was breathed into his ear; "I'm flying."
samandjack. carterandoneill.
They were a 'they' now. Life was good.
******
He supported himself against the outcropping and fed out some more line. It was a helluva hot day for a Minnesotan April and he was sweating profusely. He could hear panting beneath him, so he positioned his rock shoe clad feet in a deep crevice, propped his knee supports against a handy ledge, and looked down.
"Only a few more feet to go!" he bellowed through his legs and dipped a hand into the chalk bag attached to his belt. Slapping off the excess, he heard huffing from below.
"Sorry!" he called uselessly, smirking at the light dusting of white he had just showered his... girlfriend with.
"You said that several *meters* back," she complained, a patch of chalk-snow on her freckled nose. Should've remembered the sun block for her, he thought.
He checked the foremost carabiner and pushed his Oakleys further up his damp nose. "Meters, schmeeters, Carter, I think in old money!" he yelled back, only to be met with a red-powdered-with-white glare. Grinning again, he waited until he felt the line go slack before continuing his ascent.
Avoiding a small scree-patch, he boosted himself over the ridge and flopped his chest gratefully on the flat area atop the cliff and wriggled his ass snake-like (not a good analogy, O'Neill) away from the edge.
Anchoring his feet, he secured the line and shucked off his pack and extra rope carefully as Sam crested the edge and stumbled towards his outstretched arms.
She tripped. Her face was now buried in his crotch.
The opportunity!
Unfortunately, she straightened and unhooking the chinstrap of her helmet, she removed it with a sigh, ruffling her hair with her hands as she did so. "Later, *fly*boy," she leaned forward on her hands and knees to kiss him briefly on the lips, then swizzled about and plunked herself down, her ass parked comfortably between his thighs. They surveyed the view.
"How you doing?" he asked, carefully and unclipping his pack clasps, he fished out a small towel and handed it to her.
Leaning her head back and settling the helmet beside their legs, she took it and assured him; "I'm fine. You? How are the supports working?" She tapped his right knee. "Will Dad have to give them another turn under the healing device when he's next here?"
"My knees are just fine, thank you, *Colonel* Carter, and I don't want *General* Carter anywhere near them again." Jack scowled as he remembered a caustic exchange that cleared the infirmary faster than a shout of 'Kree!'.
Damn, she was sniggering. "Oy!" he admonished.
"Oh come on, Jack, you did nothing but moan, and he told you to lay still." He could HEAR her smirking as she patted down her damp skin with the towel.
Okay, he would play. "For three HOURS? Yeah, right. It was a conspiracy!" Jack tugged off his sunglasses and let them fall free to the length of their spectacle cord.
She was giggling again. Enough. He pushed aside the hair from the nape of her neck, laved the skin with his tongue and blew gently. Ha. From giggling to moaning in 1.3 seconds.
"He was really there for you, anyway," he said into her collar quietly, smoothing his fingers over the slightly bumpy skin on her forearm, the scars now faded to a silvery-white. Jack found his hands being taken and cuddled across her chest, his fingers touching Pavan's bracelet around her right wrist.
Their attention was caught by a large bird of prey, riding the air currents, looking for all the world like a champion surfer, arms outstretched, at one with his beloved element. It dipped down, out of sight of their line of vision.
Sam spoke first. "Was that an eagle?"
Jack smiled. "For someone who can recite the periodic table backwards, you are totally nature-ly challenged. It was a buzzard. And it's spotted something by the way it just dived."
A breeze toyed with the nearby trees and died away.
"I can't believe how hot it is – this place is amazing, Jack!" She was so happy; he could tell. And he was happy that she was happy.
"It's not always like this in April. I brought Charlie to the cabin in May once, and there was still snow in the sheltered spots. I got the chance to bring him up here, via the hikers trail, obviously. We sat over there-" he pointed further back from the rocky ledge with a sandy finger. "I'm glad I did though; it was the summer before he died."
Sam craned her neck past him and flashed a gentle smile into his eyes before turning to regard the tranquil scene once more. "And I'm grateful and glad that you feel you can tell me that," was all she simply said, pulling his arms tightly around herself.
Jack let that sink in. Yeah. He could tell her that. Now.
He could speak to her in a way he never could to Sara. Your regular Wall Street stockbroker could go home to his wife and moan about his crappy day, giving up all the minute, boring details. He could hardly do that after another botched, classified middle-east mission, could he? With Sam, they had seven years of sizing each other up under the most extreme of circumstances before they even kissed. Well, a kiss that she knew about, at any rate. He didn't have to explain; she just *knew*.
"How often do you think about him?" she asked, right out of the blue, her words eddying about with the dusty air.
He supposed it was about time in their 'relationship' that they talk about his angel. "A bit. Sometimes more than others. Everyday in some ways, even though it's been nine years. I dunno. When I visit his grave, I guess I do, but the stronger memories seem to surface unexpectedly. Seeing kids in town giving their parents the runaround, the way some of the off-world kids are so bright-eyed with the wonder of us, the smell of baseball gloves." He shook his head.
Sam nodded and hugged his hands to the space beneath her breasts again. "I can only imagine what it must be like for a parent to bury a child, of any age," she said, simply.
Jack swallowed carefully and drew in a discrete breath. He twisted his fingers around Sam's wrist to touch the small home-hewn bracelet encircling it. "I think you have a fair idea." He felt her take a deep breath herself, her chest rising and falling under their joined hands. Her head came back to rest on his chest.
"Somehow, it makes it easier knowing they had another baby girl." Her gaze was to the far side of the canyon.
"Pavan's parents?" Jack qualified. Her felt her nodding and paused for a moment before replying.
"Yeah. Although, they will never forget their son. He will be alive in their hearts, even if the memories get a little crowded in their heads, sometimes." He didn't trust himself to say anymore at this point, so he pursed his lips together and hunched his right shoulder up to his cheek to brush off some irritating grit.
"Did you and Sara talk about having any more children? I mean, you were married for a while with only Charlie." My, she was chatty today.
Jack picked at a spot on the thigh of his pants and tugged at the harness straps that disappeared under his crotch. "No." Oh, good answer, O'Neill, very informative. "Sara was pregnant when we married, and there was a lot to adjust to, both on my part and on hers. When Charlie was born, she went almost straight back to teaching and my career was taking off, literally. I was away so much, life just ground on, we didn't stop to think. After the accident, we didn't talk at all. Well, Sara tried, but I was consumed by hatred. Survivor's guilt, I guess McKenzie would call it."
"I know all about that," she whispered quietly. It was his turn to hold her tighter and he waited for a while before speaking.
"What about you, Sam? You've come so far and done so much. Didn't you ever think about having kids?"
Her response was strong and practised. "At first, no way. Never even gave it a second thought. I watched the few girlfriends I had in college gradually give up their careers for squealing brats, and I couldn't understand them. Just recently, however, I guess I have." The sentence ended on an up note, a smile in her voice.
"Raging hormones, eh?" He couldn't resist it.
She humphed. "Don't go there, Jack, unless you want to take the quick way down to the bottom of the ravine."
He snickered and brushed his lips along her freckled neck for good measure.
Sam continued. "After being stuck on that planet with the kids, Pavan's death and everything that followed, I had a long down time to think about things. I have to admit, I'm tired, Jack. I want a little something for me, however selfish that sounds."
"It doesn't sound selfish to me," Jack mused, almost to himself.
Sam half turned. "It doesn't?" There was a pause. "Do you want more children?" she asked hesitantly and twisted back.
"Only with the right person," Jack stated, firmly. Sam knew all about Laira now, relieved though he was that no child had come of their brief, drunken night together a long time ago in a galaxy far, far away.
"Really?" she squeaked, then coughed and cleared her throat. "That's good."
The air was definitely cooler now.
"Got anyone in mind?" she asked.
Jack cocked his head. "Might do," he sniffed.
"Tohavebabieswith?" Her words were rushed, but so full of hope.
"Yup." He knew that one day, *one* *day*, he would pay her back for every little cute grin and sideways wink she had ever tipped him.
She was trembling. Okay, enough was enough. He reached right around her front and taking hold of her opposite arm he pulled her so that she was facing him, her knees folded awkwardly and her climbing harness pulling her back.
"Come live with me and be my love." He had no idea where those words had come from. It sounded like poetry. Did he actually *learn* something at school? Not to worry, as it was having the desired effect; Sam Carter's eyes were as huge as saucers, and damp ones at that.
"Are you asking.. ?" she stammered, her hand flapping to her throat.
He smiled broadly and straightened his now aching back. "Yasureyabetcha. But lets get hitched first; the babies can come afterward."
Sam was gawping.
"Before you wonder what Dad thinks, I cleared it with him after he was done with my displaced patella," said Jack, as if reading her thoughts. "And I definitely have a go for this mission." He grinned. Life was gooder than good.
Chin goes up, chin goes down, chin goes up.… "You did? He did? He *DID*?!" Her breath was huffing loose blonde hair all the way to the top of her eyebrows.
He grinned again. *That* grin he knew always worked. "You can say yes now."
The blue-green saucers softened and little crinkles appeared at the skin around the edges.
"Are you absolutely sure?" she asked, and caught her lip with her teeth. Hell, even that turned him on.
"I'm supposed to say that to you, Carter and Yes. I. Am." He cocked his head and raised his eyebrows. Well?
Her grin was blinding – he needed better Oakleys. {Please say yes, please say yes}
"Yes."
Pressing a hand to her cheek, he felt her lean into the touch, her eyelashes tickling the side of his palm. With a suddenness that surprised even him, he scrambled to his feet, pulling her with him. Holding her hands carefully, he tugged her round to a standing position facing out to the glorious Minnesotan afternoon view that surrounded them. He held fast to her wrists as he stretched out his arms so that both pairs mimicked the bird of prey they had just admired.
He took a deep breath.
"I'm KING OF THE WORLD!" The bellow echoed about the small canyon.
Giggling madly, she pulled his arms down and hugged them fiercely, as if embarrassed, but delighting in the sensation. Standing chest-to-back, they were silent for a moment, the faint breeze lifting their hair and cooling their faces as the enormity of what they had just agreed to sank in.
After several heart-pounding minutes went by, he shifted slightly, about to suggest they move before rigor mortis set in. Suddenly, Sam half turned her head to the left and curled her arm awkwardly around the back of his neck to pull him closer to her back. He bent his own head to meet hers and closed his eyes as his chapped lips met her soft skin. He could taste her lip salve and opened his mouth ever so slightly to lick the flavour. The tongue that entered his mouth in response was loving and giving, gentle yet strong.
Her head was dipping and nudging as she relished the kissing and more than once, she released her mouth only to poke out her tongue to lick his lips again. He could feel mini-Jack begin to harden, and considered the fact that he was really going to quite enjoy trying to make babies with Sam Carter. He tightened his grip under her breasts and on her stomach, loving this woman so much it made him dizzy.
He broke the kiss gently and hugged her tightly around her middle again. He couldn't stop grinning. He had just mutually agreed to marry possibly the only woman in the universe who understood him, and to try for children with her.
Couldn't. Stop. Grinning.
Yowsa!
"Just one thing, Jack," Sam said sweetly.
He was caught off-guard. "Anything, my honey."
Her could feel her shoulders harden; heck, he was *so* gonna pay for that. "YOU change the diapers."
D'oh!
******
The End
Copyright © Audrey Menzies Richardson, 2004
"Vulgo enim dicitur: lucundi acti labores" (Cicero)
CLASSIFICATION: Short Story
AUTHOR: A. M. Richardson
SPOILERS: Set S7, but no real spoilers
RATING: R – Some very, VERY mild sexual situations
Smut/Ship/a little mild swearing
PAIRINGS: Sam/Jack
WARNINGS: Smut and rock climbing.
SUMMARY: Before Carter.
DISCLAIMER: All publicly recognizable characters and places are the property of MGM, World Gekko Corp. and Double Secret Productions. This piece of fan fiction was created for entertainment not monetary purposes and no infringement on copyrights or trademarks was intended.
E-MAIL: audrich08 @ aol.com
THANKS: *Smooches* to Sarae64 for the beta-by-return.
AUTHOR'S NOTES: This is the fourth instalment in the 'Enough is Enough' series.
There is also an NC-17 version of this story, which you are welcome to email me for (although over 17's only, please, so include a disclaimer)
******
Jack O'Neill slammed his F-350 door closed and activated the locking mechanism. He slouched his hands in his pockets, whistling happily. It was 0115 hours and he was finally home after being off world for two weeks straight. He smiled as he remembered another Jack O'Neill who would often think of excuses to prevent him from going home. That was BC. Before Carter. Before, it would have been a lonely adjustment to Earth time, watching Simpson's videos and swigging Buds. Now it was home made lasagne, Chardonnay and a warm bed. Very warm. Life was good.
He huffed out a foggy breath against the freezing weather and crunched across the tinkling grass to his front door. That was odd. Sam always left the hall light on for him, but the house was in darkness. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up as squinted in the wan streetlamp light to locate and insert the correct key into the lock. Something was definitely off. He turned the latch carefully and stepped inside his hallway. No lights. Silence. He edged along the wall towards the bedroom. *Their* bedroom. They were a *they* now.
Suddenly, he felt his neck being roughly pulled from the left and his body manhandled into the master bedroom. He tried to shout, but already there was a hand at his mouth stifling any sound. Not that it would have helped; the neighbors were away a lot. He felt himself slammed up against the closet door, which knocked the breath out of him for a second, but only a second. When hands came up to his neck, he was already executing countering moves. His left leg hooked under his assailant's left to follow through a throw, but they were too quick and grabbed at his neck again so the two of them toppled backwards onto the bed, Jack on top.
He could feel fast, hot breath against his face, then a hand snaked up the back of his head and pulled him down so their mouths met. The tongue that entered his mouth was desperate, and somehow, his lip was nipped. Hands clawed at his back, seeking a goal. There it was; his shirttail was pulled free and the hands found his naked flesh. Jack was trying to free himself from the right sleeve of his jacket, which was by now halfway down his arm and restricting his movement, but then he found himself being pulled tighter and then rolled over onto his back whereupon strong legs straddled his own, pinning the tangled arm under his own body.
"Jesus!" he exclaimed, eliciting a savage yank on the waistband of his pants for his vocalisation. Then the unmistakable sound of a zipper being pulled forced him to grab his attacker's head with his free hand and drive it down to his own. Tongues were sucking and sliding as hands slid beneath his own armpits and lifted him off the bed a little way. He was able to shrug off his jacket and turn his attention to the buttons blocking his next move. Jack tried with his now free fingers to undo the dainty obstructions, but the urgent pressure in his pants got the better of him and he pulled the fabric edges apart so forcefully he could hear tortoiseshell pinging all around him. His hands found warm breasts straight away so he set to work, his palms cupping mounds, silvery cream in the gloom. Under his right hand, beneath his assailant's ribs, he could feel a strong pulsation:
Lub-dub. Lub-dub. Lub-dub.
A soft exhalation sounded in his ear. Abruptly, his pants were tugged roughly over his hips, causing him to moan and half sit awkwardly up. The other hands stilled at that, while his own caressed soft cheeks in the dark. He heard another deep sigh; a contented sigh, and his mouth was again taken by another. As Jack lay back onto to bed covers, he felt a gentle hand guide him and a warm weight settled over his legs.
He waited before he began to move. Once the hand was braced by his shoulder, he started. The movements were subtle at first, and then gathered in speed and intensity.
A whisper was breathed into his ear; "I'm flying."
samandjack. carterandoneill.
They were a 'they' now. Life was good.
******
He supported himself against the outcropping and fed out some more line. It was a helluva hot day for a Minnesotan April and he was sweating profusely. He could hear panting beneath him, so he positioned his rock shoe clad feet in a deep crevice, propped his knee supports against a handy ledge, and looked down.
"Only a few more feet to go!" he bellowed through his legs and dipped a hand into the chalk bag attached to his belt. Slapping off the excess, he heard huffing from below.
"Sorry!" he called uselessly, smirking at the light dusting of white he had just showered his... girlfriend with.
"You said that several *meters* back," she complained, a patch of chalk-snow on her freckled nose. Should've remembered the sun block for her, he thought.
He checked the foremost carabiner and pushed his Oakleys further up his damp nose. "Meters, schmeeters, Carter, I think in old money!" he yelled back, only to be met with a red-powdered-with-white glare. Grinning again, he waited until he felt the line go slack before continuing his ascent.
Avoiding a small scree-patch, he boosted himself over the ridge and flopped his chest gratefully on the flat area atop the cliff and wriggled his ass snake-like (not a good analogy, O'Neill) away from the edge.
Anchoring his feet, he secured the line and shucked off his pack and extra rope carefully as Sam crested the edge and stumbled towards his outstretched arms.
She tripped. Her face was now buried in his crotch.
The opportunity!
Unfortunately, she straightened and unhooking the chinstrap of her helmet, she removed it with a sigh, ruffling her hair with her hands as she did so. "Later, *fly*boy," she leaned forward on her hands and knees to kiss him briefly on the lips, then swizzled about and plunked herself down, her ass parked comfortably between his thighs. They surveyed the view.
"How you doing?" he asked, carefully and unclipping his pack clasps, he fished out a small towel and handed it to her.
Leaning her head back and settling the helmet beside their legs, she took it and assured him; "I'm fine. You? How are the supports working?" She tapped his right knee. "Will Dad have to give them another turn under the healing device when he's next here?"
"My knees are just fine, thank you, *Colonel* Carter, and I don't want *General* Carter anywhere near them again." Jack scowled as he remembered a caustic exchange that cleared the infirmary faster than a shout of 'Kree!'.
Damn, she was sniggering. "Oy!" he admonished.
"Oh come on, Jack, you did nothing but moan, and he told you to lay still." He could HEAR her smirking as she patted down her damp skin with the towel.
Okay, he would play. "For three HOURS? Yeah, right. It was a conspiracy!" Jack tugged off his sunglasses and let them fall free to the length of their spectacle cord.
She was giggling again. Enough. He pushed aside the hair from the nape of her neck, laved the skin with his tongue and blew gently. Ha. From giggling to moaning in 1.3 seconds.
"He was really there for you, anyway," he said into her collar quietly, smoothing his fingers over the slightly bumpy skin on her forearm, the scars now faded to a silvery-white. Jack found his hands being taken and cuddled across her chest, his fingers touching Pavan's bracelet around her right wrist.
Their attention was caught by a large bird of prey, riding the air currents, looking for all the world like a champion surfer, arms outstretched, at one with his beloved element. It dipped down, out of sight of their line of vision.
Sam spoke first. "Was that an eagle?"
Jack smiled. "For someone who can recite the periodic table backwards, you are totally nature-ly challenged. It was a buzzard. And it's spotted something by the way it just dived."
A breeze toyed with the nearby trees and died away.
"I can't believe how hot it is – this place is amazing, Jack!" She was so happy; he could tell. And he was happy that she was happy.
"It's not always like this in April. I brought Charlie to the cabin in May once, and there was still snow in the sheltered spots. I got the chance to bring him up here, via the hikers trail, obviously. We sat over there-" he pointed further back from the rocky ledge with a sandy finger. "I'm glad I did though; it was the summer before he died."
Sam craned her neck past him and flashed a gentle smile into his eyes before turning to regard the tranquil scene once more. "And I'm grateful and glad that you feel you can tell me that," was all she simply said, pulling his arms tightly around herself.
Jack let that sink in. Yeah. He could tell her that. Now.
He could speak to her in a way he never could to Sara. Your regular Wall Street stockbroker could go home to his wife and moan about his crappy day, giving up all the minute, boring details. He could hardly do that after another botched, classified middle-east mission, could he? With Sam, they had seven years of sizing each other up under the most extreme of circumstances before they even kissed. Well, a kiss that she knew about, at any rate. He didn't have to explain; she just *knew*.
"How often do you think about him?" she asked, right out of the blue, her words eddying about with the dusty air.
He supposed it was about time in their 'relationship' that they talk about his angel. "A bit. Sometimes more than others. Everyday in some ways, even though it's been nine years. I dunno. When I visit his grave, I guess I do, but the stronger memories seem to surface unexpectedly. Seeing kids in town giving their parents the runaround, the way some of the off-world kids are so bright-eyed with the wonder of us, the smell of baseball gloves." He shook his head.
Sam nodded and hugged his hands to the space beneath her breasts again. "I can only imagine what it must be like for a parent to bury a child, of any age," she said, simply.
Jack swallowed carefully and drew in a discrete breath. He twisted his fingers around Sam's wrist to touch the small home-hewn bracelet encircling it. "I think you have a fair idea." He felt her take a deep breath herself, her chest rising and falling under their joined hands. Her head came back to rest on his chest.
"Somehow, it makes it easier knowing they had another baby girl." Her gaze was to the far side of the canyon.
"Pavan's parents?" Jack qualified. Her felt her nodding and paused for a moment before replying.
"Yeah. Although, they will never forget their son. He will be alive in their hearts, even if the memories get a little crowded in their heads, sometimes." He didn't trust himself to say anymore at this point, so he pursed his lips together and hunched his right shoulder up to his cheek to brush off some irritating grit.
"Did you and Sara talk about having any more children? I mean, you were married for a while with only Charlie." My, she was chatty today.
Jack picked at a spot on the thigh of his pants and tugged at the harness straps that disappeared under his crotch. "No." Oh, good answer, O'Neill, very informative. "Sara was pregnant when we married, and there was a lot to adjust to, both on my part and on hers. When Charlie was born, she went almost straight back to teaching and my career was taking off, literally. I was away so much, life just ground on, we didn't stop to think. After the accident, we didn't talk at all. Well, Sara tried, but I was consumed by hatred. Survivor's guilt, I guess McKenzie would call it."
"I know all about that," she whispered quietly. It was his turn to hold her tighter and he waited for a while before speaking.
"What about you, Sam? You've come so far and done so much. Didn't you ever think about having kids?"
Her response was strong and practised. "At first, no way. Never even gave it a second thought. I watched the few girlfriends I had in college gradually give up their careers for squealing brats, and I couldn't understand them. Just recently, however, I guess I have." The sentence ended on an up note, a smile in her voice.
"Raging hormones, eh?" He couldn't resist it.
She humphed. "Don't go there, Jack, unless you want to take the quick way down to the bottom of the ravine."
He snickered and brushed his lips along her freckled neck for good measure.
Sam continued. "After being stuck on that planet with the kids, Pavan's death and everything that followed, I had a long down time to think about things. I have to admit, I'm tired, Jack. I want a little something for me, however selfish that sounds."
"It doesn't sound selfish to me," Jack mused, almost to himself.
Sam half turned. "It doesn't?" There was a pause. "Do you want more children?" she asked hesitantly and twisted back.
"Only with the right person," Jack stated, firmly. Sam knew all about Laira now, relieved though he was that no child had come of their brief, drunken night together a long time ago in a galaxy far, far away.
"Really?" she squeaked, then coughed and cleared her throat. "That's good."
The air was definitely cooler now.
"Got anyone in mind?" she asked.
Jack cocked his head. "Might do," he sniffed.
"Tohavebabieswith?" Her words were rushed, but so full of hope.
"Yup." He knew that one day, *one* *day*, he would pay her back for every little cute grin and sideways wink she had ever tipped him.
She was trembling. Okay, enough was enough. He reached right around her front and taking hold of her opposite arm he pulled her so that she was facing him, her knees folded awkwardly and her climbing harness pulling her back.
"Come live with me and be my love." He had no idea where those words had come from. It sounded like poetry. Did he actually *learn* something at school? Not to worry, as it was having the desired effect; Sam Carter's eyes were as huge as saucers, and damp ones at that.
"Are you asking.. ?" she stammered, her hand flapping to her throat.
He smiled broadly and straightened his now aching back. "Yasureyabetcha. But lets get hitched first; the babies can come afterward."
Sam was gawping.
"Before you wonder what Dad thinks, I cleared it with him after he was done with my displaced patella," said Jack, as if reading her thoughts. "And I definitely have a go for this mission." He grinned. Life was gooder than good.
Chin goes up, chin goes down, chin goes up.… "You did? He did? He *DID*?!" Her breath was huffing loose blonde hair all the way to the top of her eyebrows.
He grinned again. *That* grin he knew always worked. "You can say yes now."
The blue-green saucers softened and little crinkles appeared at the skin around the edges.
"Are you absolutely sure?" she asked, and caught her lip with her teeth. Hell, even that turned him on.
"I'm supposed to say that to you, Carter and Yes. I. Am." He cocked his head and raised his eyebrows. Well?
Her grin was blinding – he needed better Oakleys. {Please say yes, please say yes}
"Yes."
Pressing a hand to her cheek, he felt her lean into the touch, her eyelashes tickling the side of his palm. With a suddenness that surprised even him, he scrambled to his feet, pulling her with him. Holding her hands carefully, he tugged her round to a standing position facing out to the glorious Minnesotan afternoon view that surrounded them. He held fast to her wrists as he stretched out his arms so that both pairs mimicked the bird of prey they had just admired.
He took a deep breath.
"I'm KING OF THE WORLD!" The bellow echoed about the small canyon.
Giggling madly, she pulled his arms down and hugged them fiercely, as if embarrassed, but delighting in the sensation. Standing chest-to-back, they were silent for a moment, the faint breeze lifting their hair and cooling their faces as the enormity of what they had just agreed to sank in.
After several heart-pounding minutes went by, he shifted slightly, about to suggest they move before rigor mortis set in. Suddenly, Sam half turned her head to the left and curled her arm awkwardly around the back of his neck to pull him closer to her back. He bent his own head to meet hers and closed his eyes as his chapped lips met her soft skin. He could taste her lip salve and opened his mouth ever so slightly to lick the flavour. The tongue that entered his mouth in response was loving and giving, gentle yet strong.
Her head was dipping and nudging as she relished the kissing and more than once, she released her mouth only to poke out her tongue to lick his lips again. He could feel mini-Jack begin to harden, and considered the fact that he was really going to quite enjoy trying to make babies with Sam Carter. He tightened his grip under her breasts and on her stomach, loving this woman so much it made him dizzy.
He broke the kiss gently and hugged her tightly around her middle again. He couldn't stop grinning. He had just mutually agreed to marry possibly the only woman in the universe who understood him, and to try for children with her.
Couldn't. Stop. Grinning.
Yowsa!
"Just one thing, Jack," Sam said sweetly.
He was caught off-guard. "Anything, my honey."
Her could feel her shoulders harden; heck, he was *so* gonna pay for that. "YOU change the diapers."
D'oh!
******
The End
Copyright © Audrey Menzies Richardson, 2004
"Vulgo enim dicitur: lucundi acti labores" (Cicero)