A review on AOC reminded me that this was almost finished. It's out of season. But it's done.

As he did every day, Jack slammed his truck door and stared for a moment at the old row homes in front of him, wondering why the hell he'd picked an upstairs unit when he'd moved to Washington. It didn't really matter whether he'd spent all day running around or glued to his desk; at the end of the day, it was six stairs up to the building entrance and another seventeen to his unit, and his knees hated every single one.

As he did every day, Jack hit the first step, heard it squeak, and remembered why he'd picked the upstairs unit. The last thing he needed was somebody above him running around on squeaky floors.

He hated apartments. He hated squeaky floors. He hated neighbors, frankly.

Honestly, he wasn't a big fan of Washington DC in its entirety.

As he did every day, Jack considered retiring and abandoned the idea. There was just too much going on. And too many people he needed to watch out for.

He swung open the door to his unit, and that's where the every day occurrences stopped. It took him a moment to place the noise he heard: windy. High-pitched.

Carter had brought her blow dryer. It seemed a little odd for her to be using it at 1800, but maybe she had a fancy dinner planned.

Maybe she had other things planned.

Maybe his day wasn't so bad, after all. He was loathe to admit it, but maybe his promotion wasn't, either. The distance and a few command reassignments had finally, finally given him the thing he wanted most.

Ready to take the dryer out of her hands, plop her on the counter, and show her just how much he appreciated her visit, Jack headed toward the bedroom.

He didn't make it that far. She was in his living room, blow dryer in hand and running. And she was at the top of a ladder she'd either bought or borrowed, because Jack sure as hell didn't have one. She'd put plastic film up over one of the seven-foot historic windows and was slowly, methodically ironing out the wrinkles with the hot air. It was the last window on that wall, actually; the other three were already covered and the edges of the plastic neatly trimmed.

For a long moment, Jack could only stare at her. It wouldn't have done any good to talk, anyway, because the dryer was loud as hell and he would have had to yell. And, with all the other zany stuff that was going on, he didn't feel like taking her to the emergency room for a broken arm after he startled her straight off the ladder. So he waited, gawking at her from afar until she'd finished the top half of the window and shut off the hair dryer. He waited for her to get her feet solidly on the ground. And then he said, exasperated, "Carter, why are you plasticking my apartment?"

"I'm covering these windows," she told him simply. "They leak like sieves."

"Yes. They do. If you're cold, I'll turn up the heat."

"That's not the point, Jack."

His eyebrows went up another inch. "What could the point possibly be? Surely you don't intend to spend the winter in a bubble wrapped apartment."

"Jack, I don't think you know what your heating bill is going to be like," she challenged, and surely she was serious, but it was impossible to look serious with a plastic-wrapped window behind her and a hair dryer in one hand. "It'll eat your entire housing allotment."

"I don't think you know what kind of housing allotment these get." He pointed to the stars on his shoulders. "Take that crap down."

"I'm doing you a favor, Jack."

Without talking to him about it, and his fingers flexed in irritation. "Carter, I'll be able to afford the heating bill and the damage charge for that tape taking the paint off and still take you to fancy dinners. I promise."

He regretted that the second her lips pressed together, because he knew it drove her nuts that he insisted on paying for everything. But it wasn't some macho provider thing – he just made more money than she did. It just made sense. Still, he tried, "I appreciate the thought. But please take that down."

"It's gonna be a long, cold winter," she warned, just as irritated as he was.

"My lease is up in January," he pointed out.

"And you're planning on moving to some place with better windows?" Her disbelief rang through, because he'd bitched to hell and back about moving the first time and had already renewed the lease once.

"Windows might be on the list; I don't know," he pressed. "Would you take that crap down?"

Crossing her arms – still holding the hair dryer – she tried a different tack. "What if I don't want to be cold this winter, Jack?"

"Turn up the heat," he said again.

"The furnace still can't compete with the draft," she shot back.

"In another couple months, it's not gonna matter!" he insisted, exasperated.

"Because you're moving to this unknown new place with great windows."

"Because I kinda thought that after I proposed, we'd start looking for a place together."

He regretted that immediately, too, because he hadn't meant to say it. He certainly hadn't meant to broach the subject for the first time in the middle of an argument. About weatherstripping, no less. But it wasn't the kind of thing he could take back, either, and the two just stared at each other across the room, one shocked, one sheepish.

Slowly, Carter set the hairdryer on the floor and climbed the ladder again. Grabbing one corner of the plastic, she started peeling it away from the wall.

~/~

Jack stretched out an arm across the pillows as Sam emerged from the bathroom in her night clothes. She crawled in beside him but didn't stop on her side of the bed, snuggling up against him with her cheek to his chest. He pressed his lips firmly against the top of her head, holding the kiss for a long moment. "I adore you," he told her softly, letting his fingers rest on her bare shoulders, "even if you're absolutely crazy."

"I always thought that was one of my most compelling qualities," she murmured.

He barked out a laugh, because she was right. It was her eccentricities that he loved most about her. Sliding his arms around her, he asked, "What do you want in a house?"

"I thought you were going to propose first," she reminded him.

"Yeah, well, you kinda threw off my timeline." He kissed her hair again. "So? Must haves?"

"I don't know." She shifted, snuggling deeper against him. "A nice kitchen. Room for Daniel and Teal'c. A fireplace would be nice. I always liked your fireplace."

He'd had fantasies about her and that fireplace, so that was just fine with him. "Fireplace. What else?"

"I don't know; I'll have to think about it. What do you want in a place?"

"Decent windows. These ones leak like sieves."

It was her turn to laugh, and she slid her arms around him a little further. "I'm serious. What do you want?"

"You," he told her simply. And he meant it. "All I want is you."

Her smile was radiant as she shifted, stretching up to kiss him. It was long and soft and sweet. He waited half a beat after it ended before he said, "Pull up the blankets. It's drafty in here."

She laughed again, musical and warm. And as she pulled the comforter up over their heads, he pulled her tight and kissed her.