Setting: The morning before the fishing trip in Threads (8x18)

Pairing: Sam/Jack

Disclaimer: I don't own Sam, Jack, or anything Stargate-related. If I did, this scene would have been in Threads.

A/N: I had a couple of reviews asking for a continuation, but I can't write smut! This is the best you're getting from my second ever bit of fic. It has references to smutty goings-on, though, hence the rating. Enjoy!

The ink-blue sky was streaked with topaz clouds as a warm glow spread upwards from the bottom of a frame of trees. The ones in General O'Neill's backyard, Sam realised... And the memory of the night before came seeping into her awareness.

"Are you sure?" she had said, aware that his hand had moved down from her shoulders to rest gently on the small of her back.

She had felt the slight caress of his fingers on her cheek, leant into it a fraction, but never taking her eyes off him as he said "Always" and leant in to kiss her.

She smiled to herself. That kiss... it had been nothing like the one her subconscious had created onboard the Prometheus. For one thing, she could remember it a lot more vividly.

She had pressed herself against him as their lips met. His right hand had become entwined in her short blonde hair, and the left moved slowly, deliberately, round her waist, slipping under her jacket from the front.

She'd smiled at that, and broken the kiss to take it off. It was her favourite leather one - the one Pete hadn't liked on her – but she tossed it carelessly onto the couch. The fire had done its job; she was no longer freezing, and the room was pleasantly warm. The previously-sodden patch on her jeans from the spilt beer was already drying.

On that thought, she'd focused on Jack again, re-initiating the kiss with her hands round the back of his neck. She felt his lips form a smile, prompting an identical response from her as she moved her hands down the front of his shirt. There was a dampness beneath her fingers and he broke away as the moist patch on his own clothes was pressed against his skin.

She'd said, softly, "Sorry." before pulling it up over his head.

Her recollections were interrupted by a movement behind her in the bed. Rolling to face away from the window, the covers strategically pulled up to her chest, she saw the bleary-eyed face of Jack O'Neill.

"Morning, Sir."

He blinked, rubbed his eyes, broke into a smile, his dark eyes flicking up and down before settling on hers.

"I thought I told you not to call me that, Sam." His tone was playful as he propped himself up on one elbow to face her properly.

"Old habits die hard."

"Is that why you're awake at 5am despite the fact I gave us all 2 weeks leave?"

She pulled herself up, leaning against the headboard, and reached for her watch, which she'd somehow managed to set down on the bedside table at some point last night...

Last night had been... nice. Nervous, and slow, and easy. There was room for improvement, but neither of them had expected to get it perfect first time. And it had been Jack. Finally.

"Sam?" queried Jack, after she'd been silent a few moments. "Do I have to order you to go back to sleep?" The briefest of grins. "You seem a little tired still."

"No. Sorry. I was thinking about last night." They shared a look of happy amusement. "And actually, it's a good thing we're awake. I need to go home and get ready for that fishing trip."

"At 5am? I never had you pegged as the kind of girl that needs 4 hours to pack for one weekend away, Sam." It was true; she wasn't that kind of girl. Pete had thought she was, or she could be, but she'd never had it in her.

"Mark's staying at my place for a few days." Her voice trembled almost unnoticeably, and Jack's free hand reached over to stroke her arm reassuringly. She'd almost forgotten what had made her decide to come over in the first place. Almost.

"So, you want to sneak in before he realises you went out last night?"

"Something like that, Sir, yes." He cocked an eyebrow. "Jack," she continued, "would you mind helping me find my clothes?"

As he moved his hand off her arm he leant over to kiss where it had been, then planted a line of kisses up her shoulder and neck before he slid out of bed. She allowed herself a long look at him before he pulled on yet another Air Force t-shirt and sweats and she reluctantly pulled back the covers.

As she picked up her bra and panties (wishing she'd thought to change from her standard black cotton work underwear before she'd left home last night), Jack wandered out of the bedroom.

There was the hum of a coffee machine heating up, and various sounds as he moved into another room. She had located her jeans and was pulling them on when he came back in, holding her blouse in one hand and her jacket in the other. He tossed the blouse to her.

"I found this," he held up the jacket "behind the couch." The corners of his mouth twitched, and she smiled back, amused simply by his reaction.

"Guess I shouldn't have thrown it so haphazardly. Although, I was distracted." She pulled her blouse over her head as he watched, admiringly.

"That's no excuse, Carter. You have to be careful with a nice jacket like this." He held it out for her to put on, kissing the back of her neck as she stepped into it, before murmuring "It's my favourite, you know." He straightened up slightly as she turned round, smiling. "Well, second favourite. After that sweet little tank top number."