One week later:
The cake was good.
The company was even better.
Janet and Cassie Fraiser, Daniel, Teal'c and … yes, the Colonel.
Who was wearing cream khakis, a tight white long-sleeved tee with a loose light blue cotton shirt over it. Creepy …
But considering he looked so damn fine in it, she wasn't about to complain!
Ahem.
He even wore the sandals from her hallucination, his long bare toes wiggling as he talked with … okay, listened to … Cassie. Those toes were bent at some strange angles – too many years of cramming them into combat boots – but each wiggle made her wonder just how maneuverable the rest of his body was.
No! Bad Sam!
What the hell was up with her?
Her cell rang at that point, interrupting the low buzz of happy chatter in her small house. "Sorry," she muttered, and flipped open her phone.
Mark? Her brother didn't call very often – he'd told her he was sick of always getting her answering service. She thought guiltily that she'd better pick up this time. "Hi, Mark," she said.
"Hey, Sam," Mark replied. "I was wondering if you'd do me a favor?"
One of the few things Mark had in common with their dad – no beating around the bush. "Depends …," Sam replied cautiously.
"I've got a friend …"
"No."
"He's called Pete …"
"No."
"He's a nice …"
"No."
"He's a cop …"
"No! What part of N-O don't you get, Mark?" Sam asked heatedly, trying to ignore the curious stares she was garnering from her friends and team-mates.
"Okay! Okay," Mark said. "Geez, just trying to play helpful big brother here, you know!" he grumbled playfully.
"I know," Sam said, feeling a sudden rush of affection. "But, please, no match-making, huh? I'm happy with my life the way it is."
"But … you're alone."
Sam opened her lips, and was distracted by a sudden burst of laughter coming from … Teal'c. He was being set upon by Janet Fraiser, who was attempting to climb his big body for the candy he held way above her head.
"C'mon, T! Don't tease Napoleon!" her CO said from around his bottle of soda, desperately trying to hide the smirk.
"Hey! Don't call my mom Napoleon!" Cassie squawked, launching herself at the unrepentant Colonel.
He put the soda down and got his unofficial niece into a loose sleeper hold, then yelped when she drove her hands under his tee shirt.
"Big needles await you, Colonel," Janet said, squealing as Teal'c got up and slung her over his shoulder, then moved out of the living room – presumably to the kitchen. God knows, the Jaffa was always hungry.
"Oh, bring it on, Doc!" the Colonel heaved, distracted by his tickling bout with Cassie Fraiser.
"Sam! Rescue me from the madman!" Janet wailed dramatically from the kitchen.
"Do not interfere, Major Carter," Teal'c chimed in as stolidly as always – although anyone who knew him well could hear the laughter in his tone. "I will have my revenge on the small woman."
Oh yeah; never under-estimate the Jaffa revenge thing.
"I'm not alone, Mark," Sam told her brother softly.
"Sure doesn't sound like it," her brother laughed. "Are those your team-mates?" he asked.
"Yeah," she said. "Though I think they've regressed to childhood," she added, watching bemused when Daniel – the serious, sober linguist – put his book to one side and joined the Colonel against Cassie.
Sam and Mark chatted for a few more minutes, then he had to go pick up his kids from school. She wished him goodbye, then watched as her friends milled around, chatting, laughing and play-fighting.
Let go … of this? She snorted into her soda at the notion. So what if she wasn't dating? There were more important things in life.
And the five people currently acting like complete asses in her house were just a small part of it.
No way was she letting go of this!
"Oh, very ladylike, Carter," the Colonel offered, sitting down next to her, his cheeks flushed from exertion, his hair reaching new heights in insanity. He looked … positively post-coital. Sexy as hell.
"Bite me," she groused under her breath, wondering just when her mind had started occupying the gutter around this man.
"Carter?"
Oh, crap. Ears like a damn German Shepherd! "Uhh … bite me, sir?" she offered.
The Colonel snickered and he patted her knee. "Better, Major," he said lightly. He squeezed said knee and added in lower tones, "And that insubordination thing? I'm very proud."
"What can I say? I learned from the master," Sam replied, trying to ignore the warmth flooding her entire system from his brief touch.
"Huh … you should really make a beeping noise when you back-track like that," the Colonel said, his eyes twinkling as he sucked down the last of his soda.
Sam laughed and leaned over the Colonel to snag another slice of cake.
"And no giggling, Major!"
"Yes, sir!" she giggled again. Despite the long-running theme about her giggling, Sam Carter was not a giggler. But, somehow, her rough, cynical, battle-hardened CO brought it out in her. He could be such an ass at times.
"Hey, you took the last piece!" the man accused her.
"It's my welcome-home party," she defended herself around the cake.
"But … the last piece, Carter?"
Sam eyed her CO through narrowed eyes. Was that a whine from the big tough Colonel? His brown eyes were wide and pleading and his sexy lower lip … no, not sexy! … pushed forward slightly.
Ignoring the tempting notion of kissing that pout off his lips, she sighed and broke the remaining cake in half, handing it to him. "There; happy?" she said.
He bolted the piece of cake as if afraid she would change her mind. "Extremely," he said, giving her a broad smile.
And that strange fluttering sensation in her stomach started up. Colonel O'Neill smirked an awful lot, but he smiled rarely. It was a shame, because he had a lovely smile, but she knew he wasn't a happy person.
He was content, he was satisfied, he was …
Oh, crap. Wasn't that what her hallucination had said to her?
Then she was distracted when his pink tongue snaked out to sweep up some stray crumbs.
You want him.
I can't have him.
You still want him.
"Carter?" the owner of the enticing pink tongue queried. "You okay?"
Sam blinked back to her surroundings and blushed. "Uh … yes, sir," she said, then was caught flat-footed by a mammoth yawn. "Sorry," she added after the yawn.
The Colonel chuckled. "And I think that's our cue to shove off!" he said. "Everyone; out!" he barked.
With evident reluctance, Sam's friends began to leave her house, kissing her and wishing her a quick recovery. The Colonel lingered behind and began gathering up crockery.
"Sir … you don't have to do that," Sam objected.
"A-ah! I helped make the mess, I should help clean it up!" her CO said. "Besides, you're supposed to be resting, not going on a spring-cleaning spree!"
Sam yawned again. "Knock yourself out, sir," she said.
"Kay." The Colonel whistled off-key as he began puttering around her living room, cleaning methodically.
It's A Hard Knock Life. From the film 'Annie'. She knew the Colonel liked musicals – he was the biggest Wizard of Oz fan – but Annie? "Funny, sir."
He snickered and moved into the kitchen, where she could hear him load up the dishwasher. "I thought so," he offered.
He came back in with a teapot. "Chamomile," he said, pouring the herbal tea into a cup and passing it to her.
"Thanks, sir," she said, wrapping her hand around the warm cup.
"So … what were you shouting at your brother about?" the Colonel inquired with naked curiosity.
Sam chuckled and sipped carefully at the hot brew. Mmmmm, bliss. Her CO made a mean cup of tea. "Oh, he was trying to set me up with one of his friends … again."
"Ah."
"Pathetic, isn't it?"
"Hey, I'm not exactly burning up the social scene myself," her CO said. Then he snickered. "Of course; I haven't gotten to the stage where my brother is trying to fix me up with someone."
She would've punched him, but remembered that he was her superior officer. "You don't have a brother, sir," she said.
"Right." Another snicker came from the older man. "Guess that makes me the lucky one, huh?"
"I don't know …". Sam shrugged and took another sip of her tea. "As annoying as he can be at times, I'm glad I have him around."
"Even though he keeps trying to set you up with goobers?"
"The last one was a goober," Sam laughed. "He's a scientist at Cal-Tech, but one evening with him made me suddenly understand why you don't like scientists."
"I like some scientists," Colonel O'Neill said, sipping his own tea. "You and Daniel are pretty cool. But generally … you're right. I don't have much time for scientists." He snickered. "They tend to remind me how dumb I am."
Sam closed her eyes, praying to a god she wasn't sure she believed in for patience. "Sir, you're not dumb. I know your IQ, remember?" She was ashamed to admit that she'd been shocked when she'd learned his IQ was the same as hers.
Her CO tapped his forehead. "Yeah, okay," he said. "But you gotta admit … I'm crap with physics. I don't understand a tenth of what you're talking about."
Yes. Sam could agree with that. "You're not meant to, sir," she said. "Think about it; if you understood everything that Daniel and I did, you wouldn't need us. And we don't have your capacity for planning strategy … and that's why we need you."
"Cool," the man said. "Quite the little mutual appreciation society we got goin' on today, huh?"
Sam smiled. "Yes, sir," she said.
"So … back to the goobers."
Oy! When had he suddenly become so interested in what passed for her personal life? "Sir …," she protested mildly.
"Call me Jack. So … back to the goobers," her CO persisted.
Jack? He wanted her to call him Jack? She remembered that Friends episode where the Chandler guy said, "Can open … worms everywhere." Would she be starting something she couldn't finish?
No … she could do it. They'd worked together for seven years – she could call him Jack when they were off duty. "Okay, sir," she agreed. "But you have to call me Sam."
"Okay, Carter … Sam." The man gave her a sheepish grin. "Hard to break the habit of years," he offered.
"Yeah," she agreed. "So … back to the goobers?"
He nodded and leaned back against the settee, propping his feet up on the coffee table. Funny how … right he looked sitting there like that. No, don't go there, Sam!
"Back to the goobers," he confirmed. "How many has he tried to fix you up with?"
"I think … six now," Sam said. "Seven if you count Pete."
"Pete?"
"The latest goober," Sam laughed, draining the last of her tea and pouring another cup. "He's a cop."
"Hey, cops can be pretty cool," the Col … Jack … pointed out. "Maybe you should give this one a chance."
Sam shook her head. "Not interested," she said. "Besides … I think it would be too hard to have a relationship with someone when they can't know what I do for a living."
"Carter, Carter, Carter." Jack shook his head. "Going on a date isn't a relationship. You're still young – you should get out there and enjoy yourself. Leave being alone for when you're aged and decrepit, like me."
Sam snorted. "You're hardly aged and decrepit," she said. "I've seen you in action, remember?"
The wide grin on her CO's face made her realize how her words could have been taken. And now she did punch him. But lightly. "Mind out of the gutter, sir!" she chided, a slight blush creeping up her cheekbones. Damn her fair complexion!
Jack laughed. "Sorry, Sam; couldn't resist," he said. "But seriously, you deserve to enjoy yourself. Flirt, laugh, do the things most gorgeous women like you do."
"I've never really been much for flirting," Sam said thoughtfully. "Except … during the first few years on SG-1. What happened to that?"
Jack shrugged his shoulders. "Damn Zatarc detector," he said. "That's when we stopped flirting." He poured himself another cup of tea. "I've missed that."
"Me too." After the enforced confession of their deeper than CO/2IC feelings, they'd both become so professional in their interactions that Sam had worried that they'd truly killed the comradeship they'd shared. But, after this day of laughter, flirting and camaraderie she'd dismissed her fears. "But maybe we can start over."
"I'd like that," Jack said. He leaned over and presented his hand. "Friends?" he asked.
"Uh … friends," Sam managed to get out, enjoying the feel of her smaller hand being enveloped in his large one.
He gave her another dimple-displaying grin. "Cool," he said lightly.
Never one to sit still for long, he got up and began to peruse her bookcase. "Physics … cosmology … Da Vinci Code …," he mumbled as he went through its contents. He turned and smirked. "Danielle Steel?"
"Mind candy," Sam replied, unruffled.
"Hey, I can relate, but I thought your big honkin' brain never took a break!" her CO teased.
"Nice to know I can still surprise you," Sam said around another yawn.
"Oh, you can shock the hell out of me, Carter," Jack replied. He pushed the fluffy romance back in its place, then shook his head. "Time for bed, young woman," he told her.
Sam pushed back the oh-so-inappropriate comment she'd been about to make in favor of another yawn. "Yes, sir," she muttered sleepily. "I'll see you out."
She went with him to the door and shivered as the cool night breeze hit her. She looked at him, eyeing the jeans and sandals he wore. "You going to be warm enough, Colonel?"
"Yeah," Jack said. He patted his stomach. "Think I'll walk fast – burn some of this cake off. And you try to stay away from the base till 0900 tomorrow."
"I'll try, sir," Sam said.
"Good." Jack paused, then dipped his unruly gray head and gave her a gentle kiss on the cheek. "See you tomorrow, Sam!" he said, then strolled down the path, turning at the gate to wave at her.
Sam returned the wave and went back into the house with a small shiver – it had gotten cold out there. She leaned back against the wall, her fingers touching the tingling cheek. Oh yeah, big honkin' can of worms!