"Jack O'Neill, you're the dumbest man that ever walked the face of this planet – or all those other planets…"
It was about the hundredth time he'd said that to himself since he'd left her house, his body aching and his mind about as distracted as he'd ever been. Luckily there weren't any other cars out on the road, now, because he would have been hard-pressed to watch the rest of the traffic and the distraction could have been enough to cause an accident.
What had he been thinking, kissing her like that? He knew better. He knew it was going to be perfect and that she'd be hard to resist once he'd had a taste of her sweet lips. Only he hadn't realized just how difficult it was going to be until he'd actually pulled away and left.
"Stupid…"
He whacked his palm against the steering wheel, the pain of the motion jarring his thoughts from her for only the briefest of moments. God, she was beautiful. So soft, and warm, and… perfect. He was so tempted to turn around and go back to her house that his foot actually went from the gas pedal to the brake before he managed to stop himself and keep driving home.
"No… you're going to go home. You're going to go home, and you're going to take a shower – a cold, cold, cold shower – and then you're going to go to bed and forget about what you're thinking…"
He knew better than that, but by repeating it over and over, he did manage to make it home. He pulled into his driveway and turned off the truck, and then sat there for a long time, staring at the steering wheel in the light of the streetlight. Finally, it grew too cold, and he was forced to go inside – a Santa jacket is more for display than actual warmth, after all – and he got out of the truck, and headed for the door, shivering.
"Stupid…"
He knew where he'd be right now if he'd stayed at her house – and it wasn't on his front porch in baggy Santa pants.
He sighed, and forced himself to go inside. Tossing his keys on the stand by the door he kicked off his boots and shrugged out of the jacket, hanging it up so it wouldn't wrinkle.
"Stupid…"
He grabbed up the remote control as he was walking through the living room and flipped on the TV, and promptly saw a commercial that showed a very heated kiss between a couple in front of a fireplace.
"Stupid…"
He turned the TV off, and went into the kitchen. The fridge was fairly empty – Carter knew him too well – but there were a few beers in it, and he pulled one out, twisting off the cap and tossing it on the counter. He took a pull at the bottle and saw his reflection in the dark window. Yup, that man looking at him was the dumbest man on the planet.
"Crap."
There were a lot of good reasons for leaving like that – and he couldn't think of any of them just then. Still grumbling to himself, he went into his bedroom and pulled off the Santa pants. Yeah, those kids sure did a number on them – a number 1, luckily – because they were messed up. That was another reason to leave. Sam wouldn't want to spend any length of time with a guy who would eventually start smelling like stale urine. Kids were cute, but pee… well, not even kid pee was cute.
He didn't bother to get dressed. He was going to take a shower, anyways, so he pulled off the t-shirt and his boxers and headed down the hall for the bathroom, stopping just long enough to grab a clean towel.
"Stupid…"
He didn't take a cold shower. Jack hated being cold, and really, ice water wasn't going to do anything about just how frustrated he felt just then. He turned the water on as hot as he could handle it, got under the spray and reached for the soap. He wondered what Carter was doing just then. Probably, he thought with a pleased smile, she'd already found the perfect place to hang up her new wind chime and might even be looking at it. Maybe she was even thinking of him. He put his face into the spray, closing his eyes tight as the water coursed around him, the force of it stinging but feeling good at the same time. Probably thinking about how stupid he was, he thought to himself as he lathered himself up and started rinsing off. Stupid. Should have stayed where he was. She wanted him to. He wanted him to.
But that was just a heat of the moment thing, and he knew it. Now that they'd both had time to cool off a bit – a chance to push the kisses aside and think clearly – they both would know it was for the best. Who was he kidding? He still wasn't thinking clearly. The kiss had been almost an hour ago, and it was still fresh in his mind. Just as fresh as the feeling of having her right up against him, her hand under his shirt, pressing against his chest.
Jack groaned, and turned off the hot water, ruthlessly. Then gasped as a blast of cold hit him. He managed to stay under the spray for maybe ten seconds before he turned the warm water back on, but it had been enough of a distraction that he wasn't quite as-
The doorbell sounded, echoing through the house – even into the bathroom. Jack turned the water off, listening. The doorbell? He looked at his watch; it was after 11. Santa came down the chimney, and everyone else was probably in bed. He couldn't have heard the doorbell.
It chimed again.
"Sonofabitch."
He didn't even have any clothes. Stepping out of the shower and grabbing his towel, he wrapped it around his waist and headed for the door. It had to be important. He couldn't think of any reason anyone could be at his door so late on Christmas Eve. Maybe one of the neighbors needed something? If they did, then it was an emergency, because they usually kept more or less to themselves. With one hand holding his towel firmly in place, he opened the door. And couldn't help but stare.
"Carter."
"Sam."
She reminded him with a nervous smile. A smile that turned even more nervous when she realized how he was dressed. Or undressed. He was soaking wet, with soap in some spots and his hair plastered to his head, looking surprised, but not annoyed. Which was good. Because she was already nervous.
"Sam…"
She stepped past him and into his house, and he closed the door behind her.
"I was just…"
"In the shower?" She asked, her nervous smile turning into a grin.
He looked down at himself, and then at her.
"Yeah."
"You left your beard at my place…"
She handed him the beard and wig from his costume, which he took with his free hand.
"I… thanks…"
"I know, you could have picked them up tomorrow when you came by," she said. She took a deep breath. "But…"
He felt his heart skip a beat as their eyes met again. There was no hiding the want in hers and the way he was dressed just then, there was no way he could hide what she did to him.
"Sam…"
He leaned forward, dropping the wig and beard on the floor and using his free hand to tilt her chin up, giving him perfect access to her lips. Lips he'd been thinking of for the past hour. Lips that parted slightly as he pressed his own against them.
She took the half-step forward that was all that was needed to close the gap between their bodies and slid her hand along his ribs, feeling the warmth of his skin from his shower, and the slickness of the soap. And heard a groan rumble in his chest at the contact.
There was no denying that he was just as affected as she was, and never had she been so glad she'd done something as crazy as coming to his house in the middle of the night to continue the conversation they'd cut off so abruptly. She smiled into their kiss, and he pulled away, but only an inch or so.
"We shouldn't…"
"But we're going to, right?" she asked, her eyes locked on his, and her voice barely a whisper.
He nodded. There was no way he was going to send her away. Nothing could have forced him to break away from her twice in one night, and now he was certain that she wanted him as badly as he wanted her. Otherwise she wouldn't have come looking for him and he knew it.
He'd be stupid to send her away. And he wasn't stupid.
The End!
Ha! So no one died. No one was hurt. Not even one trip to the infirmary! Let me know what you thought, though.