This first POV was inspired by Dietcokechic's The Barista series, also on this site. I liked the idea of a first person POV, and having that person not be associated with the SGC in any way, so thought I'd have a go at it. Can't compare with the Barista series, but it's my wee homage. Read Barista - highly recommended!

I'm on such a roll with this story - helped along by the ton of great reviews I'm getting from you wonderful readers (you guys rock!). I really don't want to end this story, but I know I have to. Just ... not yet.


I sighed and tapped my pen against my teeth as I checked the list of appointments for the day.

9:20 - Jack O'Neill: kitten for check-up

9:50 - Clarissa Waters: mastiff for neutering

10:20 - Yadda, yadda, yadda

10:50 - Blah, blah, blah

11:20 - The thing, the thing, the thing

You get the idea!

Being a weekend receptionist at a vet's wasn't exactly the most exciting job, but it helped pay my tuition. And it allowed me to people-watch. I would sometimes make up stories about the various people who came in. This guy was actually a smuggler and hid his drugs in the dog's collar. That woman used to be a nun, but fell in love with the guy with her, who'd been a priest.

That kind of crap.

How to combat the boredom.

9:20 rolled round and the door opened.

And I did a classic double-take.

The man entering was gorgeous.

Tall, slim but well-built, confident, dressed in khakis and a black tee shirt and with a pet carrier in his hand and shades in the other one. A lot older than I was - somewhere between forty and dead - he had gray hair cut very short, a strikingly handsome face and deep brown eyes.

I aimed my best smile at him. "Good morning, sir," I said brightly.

"Morning," he said. Great voice too! A sexy low baritone, with a hint of velvet. I'd be dining out on this memory for days to come. He lifted up the pet carrier. "Jack O'Neill."

I blinked when I saw the tiny orange kitten inside. Something about this guy said he wasn't your typical cat person. Maybe he was just doing someone a favor. The kitten mewed piteously, and Jack smiled softly. Then again ...

"She's a brat," he said, opening the door to the carrier and letting the kitten scrabble up his chest to cuddle close to his neck. She purred lustily, snuffling into his skin.

Can't say I blame you, kitten - looks like a nice place to be, I thought. "If you'll just take a seat, sir ...," I said, waving my hand to a nearby chair. "I'll need you to fill out these forms before Doctor Wilson sees you."

"For cryin' out loud!" Jack ran his hand through his hair, making it stand up stupidly. He took the pen from me and made his way swiftly through the paperwork with the air of someone who was far too accustomed to piles of forms. He hadn't struck me as the executive type, with that strong fit body, but maybe he worked out.

While he worked, his cell rang and he grumbled something in ... Russian? ... before flipping the cell open. "O'Neill," he barked at his caller. He listened to whoever was on the other hand while still filling in the forms. "Sir; I'll be at the Pentagon in two days - can't this wait till I get there?" he complained.

The Pentagon? Had to be military. I could totally see this guy in a blue uniform with ribbons across his chest. Oh, very, very sexy. Christ, woman; you need to get laid!

I returned to my work reluctantly when I realized I'd been staring at Jack's sexy brown eyes for several seconds. He sauntered over to me and slapped down the pile of forms. "There ya go," he said.

"Thank you," I replied. I took the first form, ready to start inputting his details into the computer. 'Jack O'Neill, US Air Force'. Oh, cool; a jet pilot. Very hot. 'Brigadier General'. A high-ranking jet pilot. Even hotter. I knew nothing about the military, but I'd always liked powerful men. And if they happened to be tall, broad-shouldered with eyes to die for and a great butt, then that was just so much icing on the cake. Sweeeet.

The door opened and a blonde woman came in. Mid thirties, wide blue eyes, and a tall slim frame. She headed straight over to my sexy pilot. "Managed to get parked, sir," she said with a warm smile. Sir?

He returned the smile. "Cool," he said simply, but the affection on his face showed there was something more between them than a General and a subordinate. "Thanks for doing this."

She gave him a wide smile, showing straight white teeth. "No problem," she said. "But remember our agreement?" She patted the shoulder without the kitten. "I'm Sam; you're Jack."

Laughter lit up his face, knocking years off of him. "I can do that, Sam," he said in a purr that rivaled that of the kitten snuggled into his neck.

Bitch. The tall leggy blonde could have any man she wanted, and she had this gorgeous guy. What was it with guys and blondes? I put my hand up to my mouse-brown hair, wondering if it was time to go blonde like my friends had been telling me to for years.


Jack

After Asha's check-up - where she'd been pronounced to be in good health and given the first of her vaccinations - I bundled one indignant kitten back into the pet carrier and followed Carter ... Sam, I corrected ... back to her car. My truck was being detailed at the moment, as I was about to put it up for sale, so Sam had offered to run me here.

"Thanks for doing this, Carter," I offered, stowing the pet carrier on the back seat and settling into the passenger seat.

She gave me another million dollar Sam smile; that one that turned me from a mature ... kinda ... guy into a drooling imbecile. "You're welcome," she said, sliding into the driver's seat and patting my thigh. Evil woman. "But the name's Sam, remember."

"Right."

Since that amazing kiss a few days ago, we'd started spending time together - getting to know each other as Jack and Sam rather than as General and Colonel - and found that we liked each other as Jack and Sam. Yeah; her techno-babble annoyed me, and she just didn't get my love for the Simpsons, but hey nobody's perfect!

And things about me doubtless pissed her off. I wasn't as stupid as I made out, but I wasn't in the Sam Carter league. That had to be frustrating for her. Then there was my 'shoot first, send flowers later' style. It worked for me, but Sam had always been more diplomatic than me.

We'd seen each other through some of the best and worst moments of the last eight years - for the most part. I'd withdrawn after Daniel had ascended - I just couldn't deal with her grief as well as my own; I'd needed to get back out there. The 'way of the warrior crap', she called it. T had understood - he was so my main man.

We'd started getting close again after a few months, joining together to tease Jonas. Then after Ba'al, she'd pulled back. The one time I needed to share some of what had been done to me, and she wasn't there. In retrospect, I knew she felt guilty - she'd been the one to persuade me to take Kanan - but at the time, it had just been the nail in the coffin for our friendship.

So, yeah ... In some ways, we'd been a couple for a long time. Through the bad times, the good, and the just plain weird. I thought of a certain loop-inspired kiss and smirked. And the good/weird.

"What?" she said, pulling smoothly out of the parking lot.

"Ah, nothin'," I said, giving her my most innocent look. "Just reminiscing."

She looked at me suspiciously, but chose not to pursue it. I wouldn't have told her anyway - she'd kick my sorry ass from here to Sunday. "I'm going to miss you, Jack," she confided as she drove down the busy street. "I just wish we could have done this sooner."

"Yeah ... well," I said, less than articulately. "It's not like I'm leaving the planet. Besides, you'll be so engrossed in your work you won't even remember me half the time." A couple days ago, she'd received orders transferring her temporarily to R&D at Area 51 - for a period of up to six months. She'd accepted happily, citing her wish to remain on world for a while - and would transfer there shortly after my move to DC.

She gave a wicked smirk. "I know I get excited about my job, but with you, O'Neill, it's a case of once seen, never forgotten."

I processed that statement, unsure whether it was a compliment or not, decided it wasn't, and decided to ignore it. "I'll miss you too, Sam." From the back seat, Asha gave a piteous mew, and I shifted round to unlock the pet carrier.

"Don't, Jack!" Sam said. "What if we're in an accident?"

"Ah. Right," I said. I shrugged at my fuzzy constant companion. "Sorry, baby," I added, sitting back down. Sam giggled. I stared at her. "What?"

"Sorry," she said, then giggled again. "I just never thought I'd see you - one of the most powerful men on the planet - so thoroughly ... whipped."

Whipped?

I glared at her, but she didn't exactly seem intimidated, breaking into fresh giggles as we pulled to a halt at a stoplight."And by a two-ounce orange ball of fluff, too!"

"What have I told you about giggling, Colonel?" I inquired in a would-be stern fashion. I actually liked her giggle - it showed the silly side of Sam Carter that we didn't get to see very often - but I wasn't about to let her know that yet.

"Sorry, sir," she said, straightening her face. Then she giggled again.

I quickly undid our seatbelts, then took her face in my hands, shutting her up in one of the more fun ways. She sighed happily, a hand sliding round my neck to tangle in my hair, and we lost ourselves in each other.

Her other hand was by no means idle. It slid under my tee shirt, conducting a survey of my chest and abdomen. And all sorts of ... feelings came to life.

The honking of a horn dragged me away from Sam and I looked up as a truck full of teenage boys zipped past, yelling and hooting encouragement. "Christ!" I muttered, doing up my belt once more as Sam did hers up and drove on. What was it about this woman that made me feel like a teenager?

Sam just giggled again, although the wide dilated eyes, swollen lips and short breaths she took told me she wasn't unaffected by what had just happened.

A part of me had thought that if we ever finally got our acts together, it could be horrible. Would it turn out that we'd been beating a dead horse? Had we built each other up so much that we could never live up to it? Well, I had my answer. We wouldn't just be good - we'd be amazing. I'd never been a fan of science, but I'd always liked a certain kind of chemistry. Pheromones, friction ... Heh; mind out of the gutter, Jack!


Nothing against blondes personally - I'm a blonde naturally, although have used various shades of red for the last few years. This was just the receptionist's jealousy.