Chapter Twelve
Quite a while later, Sam and Jack were snuggled happily in his bed. They'd quickly discovered that sex was not only possible for them, but even more enjoyable since they'd faced the harsh reality of losing one another, or at least thinking they had. Sam propped her quite thoroughly smug self up on her elbows and looked down at a very thoroughly content Jack.
"Was that real enough for you?"
He grinned. "I didn't hear you complaining." His hands rubbed lightly against her back, igniting the insatiable urge to touch him once again. "Although I did hear you moaning and screaming and begging and I'd even swear you were purring at a couple points there."
She grinned back, refusing to acknowledge that her sex death was a whole hell of a lot better than her sex life had been. "I don't seem to recall you crying for mercy either, but then I'm pretty sure my head hit the tiles a few dozen times."
He leaned up and kissed her which distracted both of them. But as things quickly returned to an undeniable fervor, Jack pulled away like he'd been hit by a bucket of cold water, which he had been, but it had actually been a shower head and it had been earlier when they'd realized their appetite for one another far exceeded the limits of Jack's hot water heater.
Sam was terrified for a moment that he couldn't see her again because she'd been having issues along the lines of thinking she didn't believe it was finally happening for them, and such a thought would have devastating effects on her existence so far as Jack's perception. "Jack? What's wrong?"
"We didn't use anything."
"Huh?" She'd been completely enthralled with them using each other and, having never been the type to use toys in her life, hadn't really missed anything. She was kind of disappointed that he needed or wanted something besides her. But all she could concentrate on was how to get his lips reattached to her anatomy. She wasn't even being picky as to which part of her anatomy. Just so long as his lips were touching her skin, she didn't care where they were.
"Are you on the pill?" He tried to pull away further, but she wouldn't let him. He struggled, trying to keep her from using the fact that his body didn't seem to care that his brain was trying to get away. "Shit. I wasn't thinking straight." He gave up fighting because Sam had already shifted her weight and noticed what Jack had been trying to keep her from noticing - that certain part of his body that was the least interested in getting away from her. "How could I think straight around you?"
"I'm not going to get pregnant, Jack. Relax."
His frightened look passed instantly, shifting to sadness. "Why? Is something wrong?" He was disappointed too, which Sam noted answered the question she'd always had about him ever wanting more children.
She giggled as she watched his face during his mental tirade at himself for being so thoughtless. "Yes, Jack, something is wrong. I'm dead."
"Oh."
"Right."
"That might make it hard."
"Exactly."
"But not necessarily impossible, right? I mean, I am having sex with a dead woman." He looked sick for a moment after he spoke. "Wait, that didn't come out right."
"Good, cause it didn't sound right."
"So, I can't knock you up, right?"
"Not as far as I know."
He grinned. "Cool."
"Because, really, what would that produce? A half dead baby or a half living ghost? Or maybe a baby that's half invisible to the average person. And where would I go to have it? I'd have to find a really crazy doctor to deliver it and I wouldn't want a really crazy doctor delivering my baby."
"Carter?"
"Yes, Jack?"
"Shut up." When she did as he instructed, he immediately went about not knocking her up to the best of his abilities, which, Sam had already discovered, were really rather remarkable.
The next day, a smiling, humming, irrationally happy Jack walked into the mess for breakfast. A smiling, humming, irrationally happy Sam sat next to him, plucking pieces of his waffles off his plate with her fingers. She stared at the syrup that remained, grinning playfully at Jack. For his part, he was outwardly very reserved and felt confident only Sam knew that he was very seriously considering licking her fingers clean. Sam, of course, had had the same thought and the only thing that stopped her from encouraging him was that, even if no one could see her, or perhaps especially if no one could see her, it would look very, very bad for her and Jack to have sex on a table in the mess. First of all, the table would probably collapse under their combined weight. Second, both Walter and Daniel frequented the mess for breakfast and they could both see her. And third, for those that couldn't see her, it would likely be the last straw to commit Jack to an asylum.
So she licked the syrup off her own fingers and promptly realized, from the dark look in Jack's eyes, that her actions had not at all helped the situation. She grinned maliciously, quite pleased with herself for finally having earned the right to tease Jack mercilessly and, perhaps more of a boost for her self-esteem, that her normally quiet, buttoned-up sexuality had Jack's complete attention that wasn't waning in the slightest bit even after he'd gotten her in bed.
As soon as he forced is eyes back to his breakfast which wasn't nearly as appealing as the ghost at his side, she leaned over, letting her body press against his side as she whispered in his ear. "Think we can find an empty storage closet somewhere?"
Jack started to cough, half choking on his food, and Sam sat back laughing. It would take a long time before Jack ever got used to hearing such blatant innuendos from her. Before he could come up with a suitable answer, Daniel and Teal'c approached them. They took their seats across from Jack and Sam.
Daniel, if he noticed the charged atmosphere, made no mention of it, probably because he was simply thankful they weren't playing tonsil hockey and that Sam wasn't in Jack's lap while they were playing tonsil hockey. "It's good to see you eating, Jack."
Jack said nothing, neither to acknowledge nor apologize for his behavior. As well as things were going with their relationship, he was pretty sure he'd prefer his girlfriend living, even if she couldn't actually be his girlfriend while she was living. But when he felt her leg slide against his, he wasn't so sure about that.
Teal'c nodded at both of them. "It is also good to see you free of intoxicants, O'Neill."
Jack played with his food, starting to question if the whole thing with Sam had really happened since his friends didn't seem to be mentioning her presence. Just when he started to feel completely stupid and entirely unprepared to have shown up at work sober, Daniel spoke.
"Morning, Sam. I see you're up to your old tricks off being a good influence on Jack."
Teal'c eye Daniel and Jack warily before testing the waters. "It is a pleasure to have you with us again, Major Carter."
"I'm not a major anymore, Teal'c. I'm just Sam now."
"Very well. Then it is a pleasure to have you with us again Samantha Carter."
Sam turned to Jack. "I'm not sure that's an improvement."
Jack thought about it for a moment and then started to grin. "Today is a vast improvement over the last three weeks, Carter. I'll take it as a win."
Giggling, Sam reached over and stole a spoonful of Daniel's oatmeal, making a face as she swallowed it. "You got raisins."
"I like raisins."
"I don't."
"Then get your own."
"That might just upset everyone again."
Jack looked up, only vaguely remember something akin to a giant food fight unfurling around him. "That was you?"
Sam shrugged. "I got a little upset."
Daniel snorted into his coffee. "A little? You destroyed all the dishes. We had to eat off paper plates for a week."
"You were ignoring me!"
Jack grinned. "Remind me not to ignore her any time soon."
Sam reached over and smeared syrup on her fingers, holding Jack's stare while she licked it off. "Somehow, I doubt you'll ever ignore me again, Jack." Jack was completely transfixed. Teal'c was trying to ignore them.
"At least not as long as you've got access to condiments." Daniel decided that was worse than her being in Jack's lap, but still better than the kissing. He directed his attention to his oatmeal.