Author's Note: Thanks again to Macisgate for the beta! Here's some more fluff for ya'll. There's plot around the corner, I swear to God.
Disclaimers/Spoilers: Uh....none of it's mine and I claim use of anything that already has OR has YET TO air in the US. Which basically means any spoilers I read/see could go in this fic. There. That's settled. Read! Review too!
An eerie, yet uncomfortable peace had settled across Jack's home like a predator lying in wait. Sam shivered as a breeze flitted across her skin, caressing it like a lover, whisper soft, bringing with it the promise of unknown things to come. All the windows were open, but the curtains were closed tightly across them, and the light that filtered through was eerie and cast bizarre shadows across the walls. The summer breeze poured through the open windows and made the curtains flap, sometimes violently, like birds poised to take flight. The smell of rain was carried by the wind, which occasionally whipped so hard against the windows that they echoed back bangs of complaint. The storm had just passed, actually; it had been raining all day, providing them with ample opportunity to spend their last day of freedom in bed.
They were curled around each other, practically one person. Sam was on her back, propped up on some pillows, one arm under her head. She was wearing one of Jack's plaid shirts. For his part, Jack was lying on his stomach, his feet hanging over the edge of the bed. His face was pillowed by her stomach, which he would occasionally kiss gently. Her hand caressed his cheek, her fingers sometimes wandering to play idly with his hair.
Sam wondered, in typical over-analytical Samantha Carter fashion, if they were going too fast. The rational part of her brain said no, that technically they had been working towards this for eight years; that every smile, joke, tease, wound, hug, retort, and mission had led them to this long overdue moment. The cautious part of her brain, however, worried that despite the implicit trust the last eight years had brought them, there were also eight years of baggage between them. For eight years they had put their feelings aside in the name of the greater good. Every mission, they'd accepted the possibility that one of them might not make it back. Many times, they almost hadn't. They'd been captured, tortured, experimented upon. They'd been lied to, deceived, betrayed. They'd both been lost, MIA, thought dead.
And there had been others. Laira, for him. That had hurt. Logically, she knew he'd simply accepted the fact that he was permanently stranded, that he was going to live out his days there. He was making the best of the situation. What pained her, though, was that while he had been moving on, she had been doing everything in her power to bring him home. So much so that she began drawing suspicion from her colleagues. She hadn't been able to bear him kissing Laira good-bye. That had been too much. She'd kept her distance from him then, after that, for as long as she could.
"I'm a safe bet," he'd said. She'd said. Safe bet? She'd clearly been delusional. Jack O'Neill was about as far from safe as she could get. A relationship with him could cost her her career. Could have. Which is what had led her to Pete Shanahan. He was safe. There were no regulations to keep them from having a relationship. But her life had ultimately been too much of a secret for their brief relationship to bear. Pete couldn't handle her utter nondisclosure about her job. Not that the smoldering torch she carried for Jack had helped things either.
Jack's voice interrupted her thoughts. "Penny?" he asked, grinning boyishly.
Tenderly, she laid a palm alongside his cheek and shook her head. "Not worth it."
He smiled. "If you were trying to figure out how to get some doohickey of yours to work or go faster, then those thoughts are probably worth a couple million pennies."
Sam grinned and felt a warmth spread through her as he placed another kiss to her stomach. She pulled him up, and he perched himself above her, wiggling his eyebrows playfully. With a chuckle, she brought him down to kiss her properly. In one move, his arms sliding under her, he flipped them over so that he was lying on his back. Sam squealed at his agility and laughed into his mouth, eventually settling her head on his shoulder. She sighed with contentment.
"So really," he said. "What was that pretty blonde head of yours worried about?"
"I wasn't worried," she said innocently.
He scoffed, "Come on Sam, I know you. Eight years. I know when you're worried."
I know you. She knew he did. He knew her better than anyone else in the world.... perhaps in the universe. For the last eight years, he had seen her at her best and worst. Without a doubt, he knew her better than any other living soul. "I was just thinking," she insisted.
"Clearly," he chided. "About....?"
She sighed, wishing, not for the first time, that his stubborn streak would back the hell off, just this once. "Us. You. Me. Everyone else we've been with who wasn't you or me."
Jack frowned, "And you were thinking about that why?"
"I don't know," she confessed with a shrug. Propping herself up on one elbow, she met his gaze. "These last two weeks have been amazing."
"But...."
Sam bit her lip. "But I can't help but feel as though we've been living in a dream, and tomorrow the real world is going to come slamming back in."
"Sam," he began. "I told you--"
"I know," she interrupted. "We've got the President's blessing, but--"
"But what?" he asked, a little nervously. "What more do you want?"
She continued to bite her lip. "I don't know. Nothing. This is everything we've been denying ourselves, but I can't accept that it's going to just be this simple."
Jack frowned.
Sam was all business now. This was their opportunity to discuss how their personal lives were going to influence their professional ones, and she wasn't going to pass it up, no matter how unpleasant it might be. "Can you honestly tell me that you can compartmentalize that much. That, as base commander and leader of the SGC, you won't allow your personal feelings for me to affect your decisions. SG-1 is the flagship team. We don't do random exploratory missions. We go where the most unusual and most dangerous situations are. It's what's expected--and required--of us."
Jack sighed and averted his eyes, and Sam knew she was striking a chord. It had been a tacit unspoken agreement between them these last few weeks not to talk about work in any capacity if they could at all avoid it. But clearly, the thoughts had been troubling both of them. Her features softened. "You know the sacrifices the team has to make and what sacrifices in particular are expected of the team leader. When we're called in to clean up a mess or bail someone out of a fire fight or God knows what else, are you going to be able to just stand there and give us a go?"
"It's my job," he replied, knowing that wasn't an answer.
"Yes Jack," she said softly. "It is. But when the situation arises like that one that did when...when we lost Janet, are you going to be able to let me lead SG-1 through the gate?"
Jack sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Goddammit," he sighed, feeling like they had traded one charade for another. At least before, if they were in danger, he was there to protect her. Now she was going to be on her own. Sure, she would have Teal'c and Daniel, and whomever they assigned as a fourth, but he wouldn't be there to make sure she made it home. Instead, he'd be sitting behind a desk twiddling his thumbs and probably praying more than he had in years.
Gently, Sam kissed the corner of his mouth. "I just want you to consider the possibility. If we allow our personal feelings to affect our professional performance--that'll be it Jack, you know it."
"We never let it affect us before," he replied, visions of her being brought through the gate in a body bag filling his head.
"We could never acknowledge what was between us before," she reminded him gently. "And we did too let it affect us."
"Semantics," he grumbled.
She settled herself beside him, her lips at his ear. "You have to let me go, Jack. You're still my CO, and I'm still your 2IC. That hasn't changed. But now the whole base will be looking to you for guidance, to set an example." She sighed. "And I'm sure our superiors are going to keep a close eye on us."
Jack groaned. "Why did I agree to take this job?"
"Because you've earned it," she replied sincerely.
He turned his face to her. "I won't send you to your death."
"I'm not going to die," she said softly. "But I am going to do my job, and you're going to do yours."
Jack sighed, "I know. But don't be stupid like me and lead your team into bad situations."
"You never forced us into danger, Jack," she said determinedly. "We knew the risks."
"But how many times did I almost lose you?" he insisted. "Nirrti almost killed you. Daniel died. Teal'c has almost died a couple times too." His voice was laced with pain. It was as though years of repressed guilt were coming back to haunt him.
Sam lovingly traced the contours of his face. "We're all alive. We're all here." He didn't seem comforted. Not as much as she wanted. "I just got you all to myself. So you really think I'm going to let some Goa'uld come and take that away?"
Jack saw the honesty, clarity, and determination shining in her eyes. He reached out and pulled her firmly against him. "I love you," he murmured.
"I love you too," she happily replied. As his mouth claimed hers, he told her everything there was still left to say, and in that moment, she knew they weren't going too fast at all.
Everything was just right.
Disclaimers/Spoilers: Uh....none of it's mine and I claim use of anything that already has OR has YET TO air in the US. Which basically means any spoilers I read/see could go in this fic. There. That's settled. Read! Review too!
An eerie, yet uncomfortable peace had settled across Jack's home like a predator lying in wait. Sam shivered as a breeze flitted across her skin, caressing it like a lover, whisper soft, bringing with it the promise of unknown things to come. All the windows were open, but the curtains were closed tightly across them, and the light that filtered through was eerie and cast bizarre shadows across the walls. The summer breeze poured through the open windows and made the curtains flap, sometimes violently, like birds poised to take flight. The smell of rain was carried by the wind, which occasionally whipped so hard against the windows that they echoed back bangs of complaint. The storm had just passed, actually; it had been raining all day, providing them with ample opportunity to spend their last day of freedom in bed.
They were curled around each other, practically one person. Sam was on her back, propped up on some pillows, one arm under her head. She was wearing one of Jack's plaid shirts. For his part, Jack was lying on his stomach, his feet hanging over the edge of the bed. His face was pillowed by her stomach, which he would occasionally kiss gently. Her hand caressed his cheek, her fingers sometimes wandering to play idly with his hair.
Sam wondered, in typical over-analytical Samantha Carter fashion, if they were going too fast. The rational part of her brain said no, that technically they had been working towards this for eight years; that every smile, joke, tease, wound, hug, retort, and mission had led them to this long overdue moment. The cautious part of her brain, however, worried that despite the implicit trust the last eight years had brought them, there were also eight years of baggage between them. For eight years they had put their feelings aside in the name of the greater good. Every mission, they'd accepted the possibility that one of them might not make it back. Many times, they almost hadn't. They'd been captured, tortured, experimented upon. They'd been lied to, deceived, betrayed. They'd both been lost, MIA, thought dead.
And there had been others. Laira, for him. That had hurt. Logically, she knew he'd simply accepted the fact that he was permanently stranded, that he was going to live out his days there. He was making the best of the situation. What pained her, though, was that while he had been moving on, she had been doing everything in her power to bring him home. So much so that she began drawing suspicion from her colleagues. She hadn't been able to bear him kissing Laira good-bye. That had been too much. She'd kept her distance from him then, after that, for as long as she could.
"I'm a safe bet," he'd said. She'd said. Safe bet? She'd clearly been delusional. Jack O'Neill was about as far from safe as she could get. A relationship with him could cost her her career. Could have. Which is what had led her to Pete Shanahan. He was safe. There were no regulations to keep them from having a relationship. But her life had ultimately been too much of a secret for their brief relationship to bear. Pete couldn't handle her utter nondisclosure about her job. Not that the smoldering torch she carried for Jack had helped things either.
Jack's voice interrupted her thoughts. "Penny?" he asked, grinning boyishly.
Tenderly, she laid a palm alongside his cheek and shook her head. "Not worth it."
He smiled. "If you were trying to figure out how to get some doohickey of yours to work or go faster, then those thoughts are probably worth a couple million pennies."
Sam grinned and felt a warmth spread through her as he placed another kiss to her stomach. She pulled him up, and he perched himself above her, wiggling his eyebrows playfully. With a chuckle, she brought him down to kiss her properly. In one move, his arms sliding under her, he flipped them over so that he was lying on his back. Sam squealed at his agility and laughed into his mouth, eventually settling her head on his shoulder. She sighed with contentment.
"So really," he said. "What was that pretty blonde head of yours worried about?"
"I wasn't worried," she said innocently.
He scoffed, "Come on Sam, I know you. Eight years. I know when you're worried."
I know you. She knew he did. He knew her better than anyone else in the world.... perhaps in the universe. For the last eight years, he had seen her at her best and worst. Without a doubt, he knew her better than any other living soul. "I was just thinking," she insisted.
"Clearly," he chided. "About....?"
She sighed, wishing, not for the first time, that his stubborn streak would back the hell off, just this once. "Us. You. Me. Everyone else we've been with who wasn't you or me."
Jack frowned, "And you were thinking about that why?"
"I don't know," she confessed with a shrug. Propping herself up on one elbow, she met his gaze. "These last two weeks have been amazing."
"But...."
Sam bit her lip. "But I can't help but feel as though we've been living in a dream, and tomorrow the real world is going to come slamming back in."
"Sam," he began. "I told you--"
"I know," she interrupted. "We've got the President's blessing, but--"
"But what?" he asked, a little nervously. "What more do you want?"
She continued to bite her lip. "I don't know. Nothing. This is everything we've been denying ourselves, but I can't accept that it's going to just be this simple."
Jack frowned.
Sam was all business now. This was their opportunity to discuss how their personal lives were going to influence their professional ones, and she wasn't going to pass it up, no matter how unpleasant it might be. "Can you honestly tell me that you can compartmentalize that much. That, as base commander and leader of the SGC, you won't allow your personal feelings for me to affect your decisions. SG-1 is the flagship team. We don't do random exploratory missions. We go where the most unusual and most dangerous situations are. It's what's expected--and required--of us."
Jack sighed and averted his eyes, and Sam knew she was striking a chord. It had been a tacit unspoken agreement between them these last few weeks not to talk about work in any capacity if they could at all avoid it. But clearly, the thoughts had been troubling both of them. Her features softened. "You know the sacrifices the team has to make and what sacrifices in particular are expected of the team leader. When we're called in to clean up a mess or bail someone out of a fire fight or God knows what else, are you going to be able to just stand there and give us a go?"
"It's my job," he replied, knowing that wasn't an answer.
"Yes Jack," she said softly. "It is. But when the situation arises like that one that did when...when we lost Janet, are you going to be able to let me lead SG-1 through the gate?"
Jack sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Goddammit," he sighed, feeling like they had traded one charade for another. At least before, if they were in danger, he was there to protect her. Now she was going to be on her own. Sure, she would have Teal'c and Daniel, and whomever they assigned as a fourth, but he wouldn't be there to make sure she made it home. Instead, he'd be sitting behind a desk twiddling his thumbs and probably praying more than he had in years.
Gently, Sam kissed the corner of his mouth. "I just want you to consider the possibility. If we allow our personal feelings to affect our professional performance--that'll be it Jack, you know it."
"We never let it affect us before," he replied, visions of her being brought through the gate in a body bag filling his head.
"We could never acknowledge what was between us before," she reminded him gently. "And we did too let it affect us."
"Semantics," he grumbled.
She settled herself beside him, her lips at his ear. "You have to let me go, Jack. You're still my CO, and I'm still your 2IC. That hasn't changed. But now the whole base will be looking to you for guidance, to set an example." She sighed. "And I'm sure our superiors are going to keep a close eye on us."
Jack groaned. "Why did I agree to take this job?"
"Because you've earned it," she replied sincerely.
He turned his face to her. "I won't send you to your death."
"I'm not going to die," she said softly. "But I am going to do my job, and you're going to do yours."
Jack sighed, "I know. But don't be stupid like me and lead your team into bad situations."
"You never forced us into danger, Jack," she said determinedly. "We knew the risks."
"But how many times did I almost lose you?" he insisted. "Nirrti almost killed you. Daniel died. Teal'c has almost died a couple times too." His voice was laced with pain. It was as though years of repressed guilt were coming back to haunt him.
Sam lovingly traced the contours of his face. "We're all alive. We're all here." He didn't seem comforted. Not as much as she wanted. "I just got you all to myself. So you really think I'm going to let some Goa'uld come and take that away?"
Jack saw the honesty, clarity, and determination shining in her eyes. He reached out and pulled her firmly against him. "I love you," he murmured.
"I love you too," she happily replied. As his mouth claimed hers, he told her everything there was still left to say, and in that moment, she knew they weren't going too fast at all.
Everything was just right.