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Su
Staking a Claim Part 3
Waking with the mother of hangovers, O'Neill groaned. His head throbbed with a beating pulse that could have played bass guitar in an R&B band and his mouth tasted like rotting garbage.
Tentatively, he squeezed one of his eyes open a fraction, relieved when no bright light came flooding in. He had enough pyrotechnics going on inside his beleaguered brain without having to suffer daylight.
Then both eyes widened, shocked by his unfamiliar surroundings. Carter's couch, Carter's living room, Carter's house.
The astonishment of memory came and he cursed aloud, appalled he could have got drunk enough that he'd turned up here. What had he been thinking? More to the point, what must she be thinking? What an ass!
Jack could remember quite a lot though wasn't sure he had perfect recall. In all honesty, he didn't realize he had got quite that drunk. He hadn't felt as smashed before leaving the bar and didn't start out with the intention of coming here, planning to go home and sleep it off instead. The night air mixed with alcohol must have hit him like an express train. Air and booze can be a lethal concoction. Carter would probably understand the chemistry involved.
Certainly, he'd acted like a total jerk arriving at her door drunk and unannounced in the middle of the night. Jeez! She'd let him in. Why Carter would do that, O'Neill didn't know. Probably thought she didn't have much choice what with all the noise he remembered making. Drunk and disorderly he believed they called it. Ass, ass, ass, ass, ass!
Carter had seemed relatively polite, patient and even amused. Bless her for that, he thought, because most women probably wouldn't be and for good reason. Saint Sam! The notion made him smile. Then he guessed he must have fallen asleep. Oh, man! She probably didn't have the heart to wake him and throw him out like she should have.
If anything had happened in between, he could not remember it and that bothered him. O'Neill really hoped he hadn't made himself appear even more ridiculous. He hoped he'd behaved.
When juiced, Jack tended to have more control than people imagined. Take the previous night for example. He'd stopped himself from making the grievous error of leaving the bar with Dee Dee, abruptly getting up from his bar stool and disappearing, trailing apologies behind. He felt a little bit bad about blowing off the enthusiastic bartender but couldn't bring himself to do it - especially not now that there might be some possibility of making a go of it with Carter.
On the other hand, he obviously hadn't been able to suppress his urge to come here and speak to her. No control there then. Homing instinct perhaps. Except with homing instinct, you normally get to go home. This place had never been like a home for him. He figured Sam had been for a long time though. Not the place but the person. That's probably why he'd ended up here.
Jack was starting to remember details of their conversation now, if you could call what they'd said the previous night conversing. He began to believe he hadn't made a total ass of himself after all, just a minor one, which was a modicum of relief.
Better than that, though, was the recollection of her reactions to him. She'd called him Jack for starters and then stared at him in that manner he knew meant something. Sam had brushed him off in the end. Her intention that they talk when he sobered up, however, was genuine enough.
Sober. Right. He wasn't there yet but he would be. Eventually.
Sitting upright, he stretched, trying to ease the kinks out of his aching back. Sleeping on her couch had been a bad move for his ageing muscles and bones.
Worth it, though? O'Neill guessed that was still undetermined though it certainly seemed like he and Sam might be thinking along the same lines. Was it actually possible the timing might be right for both of them at long last? That might make worse physical pain than this seem worthwhile.
Throwing off the cover she had obviously provided after he'd passed out, Jack stood up and stretched again, a loud mix between a yawn and grunt rising up from his gut and out of his mouth. Then he heard her moving around and a few seconds later realized she must have heard him too because she made an appearance.
Waltzing in gaily, a cup of coffee in hand, Sam smiled so brightly it almost made his headache worse.
"Morning Jack!" she said chirpily, having purposely made up her mind to use his forename. "Coffee. You need some."
Sam was already dressed and alert, which made Jack feel at a disadvantage. Although he was fully clothed himself, he felt kind of naked and exposed. And hung-over. Crap!
He flopped back onto the couch again and she placed the cup in front of him. "Drink, and take these," she said handing him a couple of painkillers.
"Good idea because I feel like hell," he replied with a croaky groan. "Morning," he added politely.
"Feeling crap, huh? Self inflicted injury," she mocked. "It probably serves you right."
Jack threw her a grimace. "Gee thanks."
"You're welcome," she replied with a disrespectful expression he rarely observed. "You did wake me up at a ridiculous hour, you know, and some of my neighbors. I guess you could call it payback."
He sighed, looking regretful. "I was an ass last night." The admission was a close as Jack would probably get to apologizing, which was not really his style. He was struggling to gauge her reaction to his wayward behavior when she amazed him with a dazzling broad beam.
"Not an ass. Just way too drunk."
"I didn't make a fool of myself?"
"Um, not really, no. Well maybe a little." Sam indicated how little with a gesture and Jack smiled faintly.
"Good to hear. I guess I can live with a little. God, I feel rough."
"It's called a hangover, Jack." She smiled sweetly, moving toward the window to open her curtains. The very notion of daylight made Jack feel slightly queasy.
"Please don't!" he asked. "Do you mind? Don't think I… ack!" His gesture was indicative of the pain inside his head. Clearly, she didn't mind because she left the curtains drawn and came to sit on a chair opposite him again.
Thinking further about how she had addressed him, O'Neill stared at her long and hard before speaking again.
"No sirs, generals, none of that this morning, Carter?" he said caustically and when she chuckled again, meeting his eyes with a boldly impertinent expression, Jack looked surprised. He liked her reference to his given name, he really did, and her audacious manner was appealing too, however, usually she was more respectful.
"Well, I figure General O'Neill wouldn't turn up drunk at my house in the middle of the night, but Jack O'Neill might. Ergo, right now you are Jack, not my CO. With all due respect of course." Her smile became a smirk. "Any argument with that, Jack?"
He snorted with amusement. "You'll get no argument from me on that one, Sam." He used the name deliberately, noticeably emphasizing it and finishing off with an amused grin. Jack liked the way she was thinking - liked it very much indeed.
Leaning back in her chair, she returned his piercing gaze without any appearance of discomfort. Jack liked that a lot too.
"So," he continued. "Do I look as bad as I feel?"
Sam scrutinized him for a few moments then smiled in a cheeky manner. "Probably worse."
Jack groaned again. "Thanks," he said sarcastically. "You're doing wonders for my ego this morning."
"You asked."
"Remind me never to do that again."
He looked wretched but when she laughed in response, Jack couldn't help joining in. Laughing made him feel a little bit better, he realized. Laughter therapy. Some people swore by it and, despite his aversion to psychological clap-trap, he could see the merits.
Then Jack became conscious of his need for the bathroom to pee and wash his face. Both would make him feel much healthier. "Mouth feels crap," he said, making a face. "Don't suppose you've got a toothbrush I can borrow, have you?"
Sam wanted him to clean his teeth, primarily because he stank of booze and she fully intended to kiss him at some point before he left her house. She would go for it because it was one sure way to make her feelings clear. That is if he didn't do it first.
"If you want you can use mine. No diseases, I swear." Sam held up her hand as if taking an oath. She was thinking that as they would be sharing those oral fluids soon anyway, it couldn't do any harm to use the same toothbrush. "Take a shower if you like. Clean towels in the bathroom closet."
He smiled feeling slightly bamboozled. A shower would be good. "I will. Thanks. Keep my coffee warm." He looked at the pills she had given him and knew his mouth was too dry to swallow them without help but when he picked up his coffee, it was way too hot. "That's hot enough already. Can I have some water for these?"
"Go help yourself. There are some clean glasses in the dishwasher."
He liked that she was treating him as if this was his home, not standing on ceremony, as if it was normal for him to be there on a weekend morning complete with hangover. Her familiarity made a refreshing change. Sure, he was still her CO and strictly speaking she should be more formal. Not for long, though, and they were both very aware of the fact.
Nodding, he disappeared in the direction of her kitchen and when he returned a little later, he'd showered and was drying his hair with a towel. Sam nearly gasped aloud. He looked mouth-wateringly mussed up and slightly damp at the edges.
Rising from her chair, she walked toward him nervously but with steely determination. Originally, Sam had not intended to do make this move as quickly. Then, as he looked incredibly appealing, she decided to throw caution to the wind. She would surprise him, probably shock him.
Evidently, Jack was not expecting it because he didn't react to her approach. When she grabbed the towel from his hand, forcefully grasping his head and planting one on him, he was temporarily stunned, frozen to the spot. Then he wrapped his arms around her and she intensified her kiss, exploring his mouth with glee.
Some people might have described it as sucking his face off. Jack recalled using the expression himself to describe Sha're kissing Daniel on that fateful return to Abydos.
"Holy cow! What was that?" he exclaimed when she pulled back from his mouth. Neither of them moved to disentangle themselves from their embrace and they steadfastly met each other's eyes - a powerful exchange of emotion and longing.
"I'm staking a claim, Jack," she told him. "For when you aren't my CO anymore."
Then she pushed away from him and calmly returned to sit down, not on her chair but the couch, and making it clear with a hand signal that she wanted him to join her. He did, saying nothing and drinking his now cooled coffee down in a few large gulps.
O'Neill's heart was still pounding from the shock of that kiss and, although he didn't know it, Sam's was too. Her composure was only skin deep.
"Are you really sure you want to do that?" Jack asked when he'd finished, capturing her eyes again.
"What do you think?" she replied with mock tartness and a smile.
"Staking a claim, huh?" He nodded thoughtfully. "I can definitely live with that." Jack grinned happily, tentatively placing an arm around her shoulder.
"You're still my CO, Jack," she warned although she made no move to distance herself from him.
Jack was thinking this was going exactly the way he wanted or something like it anyway. He liked that. In fact, he liked everything about this morning. Hangover notwithstanding, of course, though even that head thumper had subsided quite a lot once he'd showered. Her kiss had almost blown away the last vestiges.
'You blew my mind, Samantha Carter,' Jack thought with wry amusement. "What are a few days between friends?" he quipped aloud.
Sam, agreeing with the sentiment, allowed herself to relax, dropping her head onto his shoulder and moving a hand to rest on his lower thigh. It felt natural, as if they did it everyday.
"This is easier than I thought. I'm surprised it doesn't feel more difficult," she commented.
Jack concurred, having truly expected it to be more awkward too. Maybe some of that discomfiture was still to come but at that precise moment he couldn't have felt more contented and at peace. After the downer of the previous night's despondency, his mood was positively upbeat.
"Easy, then?" he asked.
"Just… easier than I thought."
"Right?" he queried.
"Perfect."
"Cool," he mumbled, grinning into her hair as he turned his lips to kiss her head. "Um, time for that conversation we've managed to avoid, huh?"
"As you told me last night, who said anything about conversation?
Jack laughed. "Did I really say that?" Sam nodded and he gave her an affectionate hug. "If you need to talk…"
"I don't. Do you?"
He thought about it for a while before replying. "I imagine there are some things to discuss, yeah."
"Not right now. Right now I can't think of anything I need to say."
"Me either," he responded affably.
Taking one of her hands in his, Jack stroked it with his thumb and Sam gently squeezed his thigh. They remained tranquilly silent for a long time simply enjoying the moment.
To be continued in Part 4
Disclaimer: Stargate SG-1 and its characters are the property of Stargate (II) Productions, Showtime/Viacom, MGM/UA, Double Secret Productions, and Gekko Productions. This story is for entertainment purposes only and no money exchanged hands. No copyright infringement is intended. The original characters, situations, and story are the property of the author. This story may not be posted elsewhere without the consent of the author. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author. Copyright © 2009 Su Freund