Part Seven: Closer

If you limit your choices only to what seems possible or reasonable, you disconnect yourself from what you truly want, and all that is left is compromise.
~Robert Fritz

Sam waddled down the stairs and moved blindly through the hallway toward the kitchen, her eyes still half-lidded. "I smell food," she grumbled.

"Sleeping Beauty awakes," Daniel answered with a smile.

She shot him a look that said she was clearly not amused, and Daniel glanced beseechingly at Jack, who shrugged. "Don't look at me. I can't bail you out."

"Want food," Sam complained grumpily.

"Uh… it's gonna be another ten minutes or so," Daniel told her, and Jack just shook his head. Daniel knew nothing about pregnant women. "Um… you want some… crackers?"

She glared at him.

"Ice cream? Coffee? Chocolate?" The death glare just grew in intensity, and Daniel finally relented. "Are you feeling okay?"

"Oh, now you did it," Jack warned.

"Okay? Am I feeling… okay?" she asked incredulously. "In seven months, I'm twenty pounds over my normal weight. I'm the size of a small house. I am not okay."

"I didn't… I mean, um… Jack, for the love of God, help me."

Sam took a threatening step toward the younger man as Jack got to his feet. "You stick a soccer ball full of sand in your stomach and tell me how you feel," she complained. The colonel stepped up behind her, and she tried to turn around, but he evaded her. "What are you doing?" she snipped. "Stop that."

Grinning, he wrapped his arms around her and, netting his fingers together beneath her distended stomach, lifted.

"Oh, God." Sam's eyes rolled back in pleasure as the extra weight disappeared from her joints, and she let her head drop against Jack's shoulder. "That's amazing."

Daniel shook his head as Jack's grin grew ear-to-ear. "I don't believe it," he muttered.

"Hmm?" she mumbled, though she wasn't sure she cared.

"Daniel and I had a little bet," her CO said softly in her ear, and she could practically hear the smile. "I just won. Big time."

That caught her interest. "What was the bet?"

Jack's hands started to relax, but she touched his arm to keep it there. "Ah, well…"

Daniel stared at the floor.

"Oh, now I really want to know," she insisted, reveling in the lightness and warmth of the body behind her.

"Jack told me that, um…" He cleared his throat, uncomfortable. "That he could drive any woman to distraction just with his hands. You were my one holdout."

Her eyes widened a bit, and she craned her neck to look at him. "Wait… who are you going around touching to prove this, exactly?"

"It's a long-standing thing," he muttered, but his cheeks flushed a bit, and she grinned.

The timer on the stove went off, and Daniel jumped a little at the obnoxious noise. "Just a couple of minutes, Sam," he promised, grabbing for some oven mitts.

"I suppose I should grab some plates," Jack said softly, and for a second Sam thought she detected a note of sadness in his voice. His hands relaxed, and she let out a disappointed groan as he stepped away and the weight settled back on her hips.

More than anything, she wanted that contact back – the touch had been so warm, so intimate. It was unlike anything they'd allowed themselves in the last several years, and she had missed it. As she watched him move around her kitchen with ease, she let her mind wander to a million things that could be.

"Carter? You want milk, right?"

His eyes met hers and yanked her back to the present. "Yeah. Thanks."