As Sam drove home that evening, she contemplated the events of the day. Her best friends… her family, now knew something that she had hoped to keep from them - at least for a while longer. She had been careless in not removing her wedding band before the briefing. Then again, she had been running very late that morning. She never realized how difficult it could be to get up and go to work in the morning when you had something - no, make that someone - to keep you at home in bed.
And come to think of it, she had not gotten nearly enough rest on her downtime. The rush trip to Vegas, followed by spending the rest of the weekend in bed, had been exhausting. It was no wonder she had been absent-minded about what she had been wearing on her hand.
Of course, she thought to herself, it could have been a sort of Freudian slip. Maybe in her subconscious she wanted to share her news with the people most dear to her. Maybe she wanted in a small way to share her utter happiness with them. That small gold band was just a miniscule reminder of what she felt for the man she had vowed to spend the rest of her life beside. She did not want to hide it, especially from the ones she loved. She pulled her Volvo up to the curb in front of her house and turned off the ignition.
She checked her mailbox as she opened the gate to go through. No mail. He must already be home, she thought to herself. She had to admit, it would be a nice change to have someone waiting for her in the evening – even if it would probably never be a regular occurrence since they both had hectic and erratic work schedules. She opened the door and shouted something she had never thought she would ever utter... "Honey, I'm home!"
"Hey, I'm in the kitchen. What took you so long?" a male voice echoed from down the hall.
Sam sauntered into the kitchen. She stood by the entrance with a bemused look on her face, observing her husband who was currently leaning over a steaming pot on the stove.
"Sorry," she apologized. "I had a report I had to finish before I left work. General O'Neill can be quite a stickler when it comes to getting reports in on time."
"Oh really?" he asked amusedly.
Sam walked over to him, wrapped her arms around his waist, and propped her chin on his shoulder to see what he was so busy doing. "You betcha. So what's for dinner, oh dearest husband of mine?"
He paused what he was doing to turn in her arms and face her. "Wait a minute. I thought I was the only husband you had. Where have you been hiding the other less dear ones?" he joked.
She scolded him with a playful slap to his shoulder, "Oh just be quiet and kiss me."
With that he raised one of his hands to cradle her face, then unexpectedly dipped her backwards and planted a lengthy and firm kiss on her lips. After what seemed to be an eternity, he removed his lips from hers and stood her now dizzy form back upright.
"Good enough, my dear?" he asked with a smug smile on his face before continuing, "By the way, in answer to your previous question, we are having grilled salmon, steamed veggies, green salad, and baked potatoes for dinner."
She had just managed to regain her composure, but at this news her eyebrows shot up in surprise, "What's the occasion?"
"I just wanted to show my new wife how much I appreciate being with her. Anyways, you have a mission tomorrow and who knows when we will be able to do this again."
Sam exclaimed, "How right you are. We will just have to make the most of tonight." With that, Sam leaned her head up to place a gentle kiss on her husband's lips. "Let me know when dinner is ready. I'm going to take a short nap on the couch."
A half-hour later, Sam was sleeping soundly on the couch in her living room. She let out a contented sigh as someone leaned over and whispered, "Wake up, sleepyhead. Dinner's ready."
Sam slowly opened her eyes and smiled. "I could really get used to this."
A guilty smile crossed his face. "I guess we didn't get enough sleep this weekend. We'll have to try to get some tonight. I can't have you going off on a mission not well rested."
"Sleep is nice. But I can think of a couple of other things that I prefer," Sam countered suggestively.
He looked at her smiling face, placed a brief kiss on her lips, and chastised, "Oh no. First we eat the dinner that I slaved over, then we'll talk."
"Talking, much like sleep, can be highly overrated," Sam argued. "How about we turn in after dinner. That will give us plenty of time for sleep, as well as other more enjoyable activities?" she offered as a compromise.
"I think that can be arranged. Come on, let's eat." He offered her a hand up and ushered her into the dining room.
As Sam sat at the table, with a delicious plate of food before her and the man she loved sitting across from her busily fixing his baked potato, she thought to herself, 'How did this happen? I have everything I have wanted for so long.' She frowned slightly as she warned herself, 'How long can it last?'
AN: The title of this chapter is inspired by an old song called, "Happiness is a Thing Called Joe." I thought the lyrics were fitting.