Hi! This is my first Stargate fic, and I hope you enjoy. :)
Sam dove onto Daniel's lap and lay there for a while, her head resting on the seat of her chair.
Teal'c, Jack and Daniel stared in shock.
"Um…Sam?" Daniel peered over her to see her face, which she lifted slowly at his voice. "Would you mind…getting off my lap?" Daniel shifted uncomfortably.
Sam picked her head up a little more and peaked over the round table top, past her fellow teammates and around the dark and cramped dance floor. SG-1 had mutually agreed that New Year's was a waste of time. And champagne.
"Simmons…" Sam panted a little; she had just practically run in high heels and pushed several other SGC members over in her bid to escape Lt Simmons' overly-bright eyes. "Simmons won't leave me alone! He's not…oh, crap. He's not coming over is he?"
Jack raised an amused eyebrow and lazily searched the room. "Not that I can see, Carter."
Sam blew out a sigh and pushed herself off Daniel's lap – he grunted in mock-relief and Sam shot him a glare – and callously brushed herself down. "He keeps asking me to dance. So I did. Once. Then he asked me if I wanted dinner with him. Then if I wanted to check out his new computer software…at his house. Then if I wanted to visit his mother." She shook her head. "I didn't even dance the whole song with him! I swear! His long-fingered, bony little hand was creeping lower and lower…"
"Ah! Carter!" Jack scrunched up his face in reflexive disgust and took a swig of champagne. "How much have you had to drink, anyway?"
Sam reached out and took his glass from him, gulping back the rest of the contents. "Same as you, now. Seeing as you finished off my first glass for me."
They grinned at each other and Teal'c stood up. "I will fetch more refreshments," he said, and disappeared into the throng of SGC members to the bar.
Sam turned to Daniel and perched her elbows on the table, crossing her fingers together and resting her chin on the resulting support. "So. Where's Janet, Daniel?"
If it weren't for the dim lighting, Jack would have seen Daniel flushing furiously. As for Sam, she already knew.
"Um, she's just…mingling. You know."
"Uh huh," Sam nodded. "You planning on taking her home tonight? She's pretty drunk. It would be the gentlemanly thing to do…"
"Um…" Daniel looked at Jack then turned back to Sam. "Yeah, I guess I'd better."
"Mm-hmm," Sam carried on nodding. "Plus, you can't really stick your tongue down someone's throat and then just ignore them, can you, Daniel?"
This time, even the darkness couldn't hide Daniel's blush. "What-? How-? But-?"
Jack slapped his hand on the table and hooted.
"Man, you guys were really going at it, weren't you?" Sam continued, thoroughly enjoying herself. "I must have called your name ten times before giving up. And then," she turned to Jack, "they disappeared and didn't reappear for another twenty minutes."
Jack barked out a laugh. "You and the Doc? Well I never…"
Daniel grinned bashfully and ducked his head. "Sorry, Sam. Looks like you'll have to get a cab on your own."
Sam "pshawed" him and dismissed his apology with an ambiguous wave of her hand. "I'll be fine. I'm a Major in the USAF! I can take care of myself."
Daniel and Jack looked at each other.
"Carter, how about I share a cab with you?"
Sam sighed but knew it was futile to even attempt to argue with him. "Sure, sir."
The table fell into silence.
Daniel stood up after a while. "Ah, guys? I'm going to be heading home now…" He trailed off as he walked away.
"Daniel! It's not even midnight, what-?" She spotted Janet; eyes lit up and locked with Daniel's, standing across the room.
"Looks like Doc and Dannyboy are gonna have their own New Year's celebrations."
"At least someone's getting lucky," Sam muttered, and began shredding up a napkin.
Jack raised his eyebrows and turned to face the crowd, ignoring the very inappropriate yet very tempting – oh, how tempting – suggestions he could have made.
There were quite a few of them.
He coughed and subtly crossed his legs.
"Major Carter!" came an excited and slightly slurred voice. "Here you are! I've been looking all over for you! We've only got a couple of minutes until the New Year and I thought…well, I was hoping…that…maybe…possibly…perhaps I could have this dance…?"
Jack whipped his head around in time to see Carter's face compose itself from a momentary drop of what looked like combined abject horror and fear.
"Ah, sorry, Lieutenant," he interjected smoothly. "The Major's already promised me this dance." His eyes were trained on hers, "Right?"
"Yeah sure you betcha," she said after a moment of heavy silence, and took his proffered hand across the table. With her startled blue eyes still snagged on his smug – and a little bit startled themselves – chocolate ones, she pushed past the crestfallen Lieutenant and walked into an empty space on the dance floor with her Colonel.
They stood for a second just staring at each other; both looking relatively surprised at the sudden turn of events, but unable to hide the excitement that always flickered deep inside at even the slightest touch from either member of the secretive party.
A dancing couple jostled into them and they grinned sheepishly at each other.
"Shall we?" Jack held out his hand.
Sam stared at it, butterflies suddenly tornadoing inside her stomach, lead weights attached to each insect as it impacted against her stomach lining. These butterflies were butterflies of doom, she decided. Well, she'd never really liked bugs, anyway. Then Jack snatched up her hand in impatience and – if he admitted it to himself – just a little more worry than normal.
But when Sam's wide eyes, shining with delight, slid up once again to meet his, that cloud of worry that had been gathering above him dissipated completely, and he yanked her – okay, so maybe a little more forcefully than necessary – closer to him, forcing her to assume the correct dancing position.
With one hand on her waist, and one of hers on his shoulder, he began to gently spin them in time to the moody jazz song that was pulsing, slow and heavy, across the floor and through their bodies.
"So…"
Sam smiled and unconsciously moved a little closer to the lean, firm body already so near to her own. "So…"
"Any plans for the new year?"
"Save the world once, twice…maybe twice more after that…"
"The usual."
"The usual." And the usual sucked.
As if picking up on the neutrality in her voice, Jack asked, "You'd prefer…the unusual?"
He felt the sigh that ran through Sam's body as she answered. "I'd just… doesn't it ever seem…I don't know. It gets a little tedious sometimes. Consuming tedium. All the time, actually."
"That's why we've got Daniel. To fill out tedium with needless worry and ever-lengthening death."
Sam snorted.
Unconsciously, Jack moved closer. "And then there's Teal'c, to fill some of the tedium with…Jaffa wit?"
Sam's snort was more pronounced this time as she recalled all the 'jokes' Teal'c had made.
"And then," he whispered, and Sam moved closer to hear him better, or, at least, that's what she told herself, "there's me." The last word escaped on a breath, and it tickled against her ear, sending a chain reaction of icy shivers down her neck and back.
The dress she was wearing was brand new, expensive, and all Cassie and Janet's idea. It a pearl silk halter neck that had a slit climbing from her ankles all the way up to mid-thigh. It wasn't the most conservative of dresses, which was why the Cassie-and-Janet-persuasion parade had come out, full force.
And she was glad of it. Because right now, she didn't want to be Major Carter, dancing with her CO. She wanted to be Sam Carter – woman – dancing with Jack O'Neill – the man she respected in ways that went far beyond the call of duty.
And right now, because of the dress, every time he breathed, his breath whispered across her skin and did terrible things to her stomach and lower, terrible but wonderful things, she might add.
Jack carried on talking, gently applying pressure to Sam's hand as he brought his arm in closer to his body, meaning Sam was forced to stand with their hands held tightly together, sandwiched between their bodies. "Now, I'm here to break that tedium with my subtle, intelligent wit–" Sam snorted and Jack's hand came up to cradle the back of her head, idly fiddling with her hair. "Ub-bup-bup! Let me finish before you mock."
He cleared his throat and his hand on her waist slyly slid round to the small of her back, causing her to take a step toward him, and effectively pushing her own hand so that it crept across his shoulder and rested at the base of his neck, her fingers reaching up to fiddle with the ends of his hair. "Now let's see. I also provide a serious medical help by bringing you food and making you rest and have fun…"
"And interrupt any important work I might have because you can't work the spellchecker on your computer, or because you can't untangle your yoyo, or because you're just plain bored, or because…"
"Alright, alright. I get it. I like to interrupt you. But not in an annoying way," he stopped dancing. "Right?"
Sam edged, if it were possible, even closer, and rubbed her thumb in soothing circles against his clenched fingers that were holding her own between their chests. "Right," she said.
He started swaying and rotating again, and she heard the smile in his voice as he murmured a smug, "Told you so." He flexed his fingers against the small of her back and Sam couldn't help the shiver that ran through her. "So anyway. I interrupt you – which is a good thing – and I push you."
"You push me?"
"Yes. I push you."
"I'm guessing you don't mean all those times you physically pushed me through the Stargate, and such?"
"Of course I don't mean those times. I mean I push you mentally."
"I'm going to regret asking this – how, exactly?"
"Ah! Thought you'd never ask," he ignored Sam's snickering, "you see, I provide a sort of polar opposite for you to work against and break through. I give you new perspectives to work from – for example, the simple perspectives. And, of course, I let you solve all the difficulties we face out there."
"Oh, you let me solve them? How kind of you…sir."
"Now, now, Major. That's bordering on insubordination."
"Of course, sir. Sorry, si-ir!" Jack suddenly released his grip on Sam's back and pushed her away from his body, effectively putting her into a very unprofessional spin. Just as she reached the maximum distance away from him, he gave a rather forceful tug and she came spinning back into him, landing with an "oomf!" against his chest, fingers splayed against the soft fabric of his jacket.
"You looked like you needed a good spinning," he explained with an unrepentant grin.
Sam rolled her eyes. "How perceptive of you, sir," she said dryly.
He waggled his eyebrows. "Bet you'll never guess what I'm going to do next."
Sam's brow furrowed in confusion, then, on catching that oh-so-Jack sparkle in his eyes, her eyebrows shot up, and her eyes widened. "Oh, no! Sir, don't even think about-"
Except, of course, was dancing with Colonel O'Neill. Tenacious in every aspect of his life, even in paperwork. Yep, he was definitely tenacious when it came to paperwork – he did anything to avoid it.
So trying to persuade her CO not to dip her was as fruitless as trying to get a System Lord to donate all his gold to the poor.
Jack quickly manoeuvred his feet into a sturdy stance, and all but dropped his Major, at the last second stopping her decent to the floor and holding her there. He grinned like a kid who'd just got his Christmas wish. "Couldn't resist, Major."
"I'll bet," she grumbled. When he made no move of…well, moving, she raised her eyebrows. "You plan on letting me up, Colonel?"
He gave a casually nonchalant shrug and said nothing.
Sam outright laughed. "I'm sure this could somehow be perceived as assault…"
Jack pretended to look offended. "Now why would you want to do something like that?" But he pulled her up anyway. Actually, he lugged her up, almost throwing her into his body. She threw up her hands and they pressed into his chest, how own hands came to stop her from rebounding by pressing her against him.
All in all it was a too-intimate position for a CO and his insubordinate. And it was a too-intimate position for Jack and Sam.
"Um…" she said intelligently. Now why couldn't she tear her eyes away from his? He seemed to be having the same trouble…
"Yeah," he replied, just as intelligently, "um."
Couples were still dancing around them, some bantering easily – friends – and some murmuring who-knew-what into each other's ears – those were the 'more than just friends.'
And then, somehow having migrated toward the darkest corner, there was them. Now standing together, locked onto each other with no sense of the world around them.
Jack didn't know about Sam, but his heart seemed to be doing the Macarena in a desperate attempt to escape from his chest. And his mind…well. Talk about image overload. His brain seemed to be playing and replaying any personal, even any innocent moment the two might have experienced once ago.
It was kinda nice, except for the fact he was clearly wanting something he couldn't have. Something his brain obviously didn't want him to let go of.
He'd never been a big fan of his brain. It was always picking on him.
What he didn't know was that Sam was going through the same thing. Sort of. She wasn't blaming her brain. She was actually quite proud of it.
She was blaming her heart. She either fell in love with megalomaniac murderers, men who were fated to die, or men she shouldn't be in love with. Although, if she were honest with herself, she'd never really been in love with any of those men.
Until now, that was. Now she was so in love with Jack – the Colonel – she was beginning to do what she hated most; she was beginning to doubt herself. And whenever that happened, she could never regain her confidence until the matter was solved.
And she had a very bad feeling that, as long as she lived, this matter would never be solved. Because she had a very bad feeling that, as long as she lived, she would never stop loving the man who was gazing so intently, so openly at her in a place where he should be doing no such thing.
And why was she letting him? She should be admonishing him with a sharp "Sir!" or a subtle but inexorable push away from his warm and welcoming body.
But she wasn't. And wasn't that the pits?
Instead she was welcoming the feel of his hard planes against her body, and the clever force his hands were exerting on her back. In fact, she was leaning into him…
…and he was leaning into her!
Well. This was unexpected, wasn't it? She didn't quite know what to do. Her brain seemed to have shut down completely. It was a good thing, she supposed, that her body still had full control.
Or was it?
Because suddenly her CO's face was dangerously close to hers, and his lips were getting nearer. Not that that was necessarily a bad thing…
…yes! Yes it was! It was the worst thing imaginable!
Right?
The Colonel didn't seem to think so. And she was supposed to learn from him, wasn't she? Respect her elders, and all that.
"TEN!"
Jack and Sam pulled apart as the room erupted together into a shout.
"NINE!"
They simultaneously jumped at the next cheer, then grinned goofily at each other.
"EIGHT!"
Jack scanned the dance floor and the rest of the spacious hall, though for what, he didn't know.
"SEVEN!"
Everyone was standing with someone, linked to them in some kind of physical contact. Everyone except them…
"SIX!"
Sam took a step forward, and Jack started, turning to look at her.
"FIVE!"
Her azure eyes were hard with determination, but still ineffably soft in a way that only Sam be.
"FOUR!"
She took another step, and now she was standing directly in front of him, almost on his toes.
"THREE!"
"Carter?"
She placed a finger on his lips and shook her head. "Sam, Jack. Just Sam."
He nodded.
"TWO!"
"You sure you want to do a New Year's kiss? Remember what happened last year?"
Sam smiled sagely. They had both been extraordinarily drunk and therefore extraordinarily uninhibited. "That's what I'm counting on."
"ONE!"
Something hot flashed in Jack's eyes, and then he was kissing her. And it was as if all his dreams had come true because she was kissing him back. And she wasn't even drunk!
He was wrapping her up in his arms and pressing her tightly against him, never wanting to let go, knowing that if he did his heart would probably break.
Sam was feeling the same. As the kiss grew wilder and wilder, past the bounds of 'even slightly accidental,' her doubts and fears grew stronger and stronger too. And, if anything, this just fuelled her need to be kissed by Jack even more.
Cheers were still going strong around the room, but were unnoticed by the couple.
A deep voice, somehow, broke through their haze of unbridled passion, and they almost felt a superficial force pushing them apart.
"Colonel O'Neill, Major Carter. I came to wish you both a happy New Year." Teal'c bowed his head and resolutely ignored the two officers' previous embrace.
Jack cleared his throat, "Thanks, T. And, ah, a happy New Year to you too!"
"Yeah," Sam cleared her throat, "happy New Year, Teal'c. I hope this one's a good one," she smiled wryly, "fingers crossed, eh?"
Teal'c tilted his head. "I believe this New Year is already a good one, Major Carter." He turned smartly, and left.
Jack turned back round to Sam with wide eyes and a faintly scared expression on his face. "Well…"
Sam nodded mutely. "Well…"
Jack cocked an eyebrow. "I guess he knows…"
Sam snorted then groaned, dropping her head forward, her forehead resting in the notch of the Colonel's – Jack's – neck. "Now what?" she asked, dreading the answer and regretting asking the instant the words left her mouth.
This was Jack she was dealing with. The guy who acted like he had the emotional range of a teaspoon, but was actually one of the deepest men she knew. He was also one of the noblest men she knew, which meant that he would do what he thought best – not what he wanted – to ensure she was the one best off in the end.
It wasn't like he avoided confrontation…
Yeah, he did. But for good reason. Because confrontation – at least, where she was involved – usually led to situations like this. Where they were forced to choose between the impossible and tear chunks off their hearts because of it.
"I guess now…we have a great new year…"
Sam bit back a sigh and forced herself to stand upright, desperately trying to ignore the burning sensation at the back of her eyes. She nodded firmly and swallowed the lump in her throat, telling herself she was glad Jack was being sensible and pushing her away. Really. She was glad. Their careers were much more important than their hearts, right? After all, what was love, really? Nah, their careers were far more important…or so the Colonel thought, apparently. She wasn't so sure herself.
"Right. Fine. I think I'll go wish the General a happy New Year, sir," she turned to do just that when long fingers bit into her arm.
"Wait a minute! You're just going to leave me?"
"With all due respect, sir, I don't feel like sticking round," plus if she stayed for much longer she might just be very close to bursting into tears in front of her CO.
When she finally couldn't stand the silence anymore, and glanced up at Jack, he looked outraged. "You can't just go! Not when I–"
"Not when you what, sir?" Uh oh, you weren't supposed to yell at your commanding officer. She was going to be in so much trouble. As if kissing him hadn't been bad enough… She should just keep her mouth shut, just walk away… "We've been through this so many times, Colonel. We kiss, it's a mistake, we walk away like it never happened. The end. So, like those times, I'd appreciate it if you let me go and carry on being me, Major Carter. Your second in command."
Jack stared at her for a moment and little worms of doubt and insecurity wriggled their way into her brain. Crap. She should just run while she still had the chance. He was old, she could outrun him. Sure, she was wearing high heels and a tight dress, and she may look a little weird, but if she had to… She could always pelt him with her jewellery if the worse came to worst.
God, she hoped not. That sparkly stuff cost money!
She was still debating the pros and cons of using her jewellery as tactical missiles when Jack did something she did not expect. Which didn't happen all that often. Covering all that dark and heavy stuff, was a simple, predictable man.
But this was not something Sam had predicted would happen.
It was actually sort of insulting.
Jack burst into laughter. And not just quiet chuckles, either. Oh no. These chortles were rapidly escalating into hysterical giggles, seemingly spiralling up from the very depths of his belly. He was crying with mirth, for God's sake!
Sam decided she'd had enough when he had to lean against the wall, doubling over and clutching his side.
She forcefully pushed past him and began striding away. She heard his pitiful calls, still laced with childlike amusement and laughter, but she ignored them and carried on pushing through the crowd, eyes trained on the glowing Exit sign…
…And then she was there. She was free! And it was cold. Damn it. She'd forgotten her freaking coat. She stood for a moment stamping her feet and rubbing her arms before blowing an aggravated breath and turning back round to the door.
It burst open just as she'd taken a step towards it.
"Sam!"
She span back round.
"Sam, you'll freeze to death."
Yes, thank you for pointing out the obvious, Doctor Einstein. She looked around for any sign of a cab and, upon seeing none, started to stalk off to the phone booth she could see 100 yards away.
"Sam! I'm sorry I laughed, okay? It was…it was insensitive of me, and I apologise."
She could hear him walking along at no mean pace behind her long strides. "Apology accepted," she said in a carefully toneless voice.
He growled – actually growled – and quickened his pace so that he managed to overtake her and halt her anger-fuelled paces.
"I'm sorry," he said contritely, "I really am. It's just…You know how bad I am at all this…feelings…crap. And I guess I didn't really make myself clear, and then when you started ranting–"
"I did not rant!" she objected.
Jack had the nerve to roll his eyes. "Right. When you started going on about how you wanted to walk away and stuff…I just cracked up."
"Can't say I noticed, sir."
"Major!" he said, somewhat exasperatedly. "I'm trying to apologise and be a gentleman and spill my guts, here."
"Oh, I am sorry. Please, continue." She tapped her foot impatiently and stared at him expectantly, arms folded.
"Thank you," he said sincerely. "As I may have mentioned, I found your ramblings a mite amusing," he shot her a look clearly daring her to interrupt. She mimed zipping up her mouth and throwing away the key. "What I meant when I said that we were going to have a great new year was that we were going to have a great new year together."
Sam was pretty sure she'd heard what he's said, but just to be sure, "What?"
Jack looked a little uncomfortable but carried on anyway. "Back in there – that was great. The kissing, I mean. Not the mixed signals and involuntary laughter – which may have given me a hernia, might I add."
"Oh, and I suppose that's my fault?"
"In a word, yes."
Sam harrumphed. Jack continued. "And after all the other years of kissing then walking away, well, I've frankly had enough of that."
"Then why did you still do it every year?" Sam cried. "Why did you give me an amazing kiss that left me breathless and wanting more – so much more – and then just walk away and act like it hadn't meant anything? Like none of them meant anything?"
"Because!" he cried back. "Because I didn't want to ruin your career and, consequently, your life just for me! But then New Year would roll around – or any other celebration – and all I would think was how hot you were looking and how, because it's New Year, it wouldn't be too bad if I just snuck a kiss, maybe. Except then you'd kiss back and it would suddenly be so much more than a kiss and I didn't want you to make a huge mistake you'd regret for the rest of your life! So I had to stop it."
He speared his hands through his hair, looking vaguely harassed with his eyes shining brightly and his breath coming choppily. "But I can't do that anymore! I can't act like they didn't happen because, for the past 7 or so years, it's been slowly killing me. And I can't hold myself back from you for 364 days of the year when for those 364 days plus New Year all I want to do is wake up with you next to me, walk the dog with you, have breakfast with you, go through the day with you, and then go back to bed with you to repeat it all over again."
Jack's eyes, locked on hers, were nearly pleading with her to understand him, and understand what he's been going through, what he was trying to convey.
And she did.
How could she not when that was exactly what she'd been going through all those years?
With a shaking hand she reached out and placed her palm flat against his heart, which was beating as fast as hers was. "What about a cat?"
Jack's eyebrows pulled together. "Huh?"
"We can't have a dog, and not have a cat," she whispered.
"We'll call them Space Monkey and Teal'c."
Sam snorted softly. "How are we going to do this, Jack?"
"See, there's this thing called a pet store. We go down there, pick out a pet, and the nice assistants–"
Sam thumped him lightly on the chest. "I meant how are we going to be a couple with the regulations? One of us will have to give up our position at the SGC…"
"Or, one of us could have a word with Hammond 12 hours ago and get him to get the President to eradicate those nasty regulations and give us special permission to carry out a relationship together without being court marshalled…"
"What? Jack, you didn't!"
He sighed. "No I didn't, but it's a nice dream, isn't it? The General Hammond said it didn't work like that, even though the President is a fan of my work. So I retired from the military…"
"What? Jack, how could you! The SGC needs you! We need you as a team!"
"…but because the President apparently thinks I'm too 'valuable' to lose, they've kept me on as a civilian. I'm the SGC's new Tactical Advisor."
Sam did a pretty good impression of a blowfish for about a minute. "What? So…so you'll still be working at the SGC…?"
"Yep." Jack dug his hands in his pockets and rocked back and forth on his heels. "I even get to go out on missions. Mostly with you guys cos SG-1 gets all the tough missions. And, like you said, the team needs me. So…whaddya think?"
Sam's brow furrowed. "Does that mean I don't have call you 'sir' anymore?"
"Yep."
Sam broke out into a megawatt grin. "I think we can finally be 'Jack and Sam.'"
Jack's arms were instantly around her and they were soon making out like a couple of teenagers. Which was fine by them. Until someone wolf-whistled and they broke apart sheepishly, suddenly remembering they were in the middle of a car park in the sub-zero temperatures wearing…well, in Sam's case, not much.
Jack smiled down at Sam and gently brushed his fingers against her cheek. "Whaddya say to having our own New Year's celebration like the Space Monkey and Doc are having?"
Sam grinned as she pulled his hand into hers, guiding him to the party so she could get her coat and say her goodbyes. "Your place or mine, Flyboy?"
Oh yeah. They were going to have a great new year. And a whole load more after.