Author's Note: For the first time in all my writing life, I sat down to write a chapter and ended up writing bits and pieces of most of the rest of the chapters in the story. So, while this chapter took longer to produce that I'd normally like, the good news is I'm already ahead on some others! (Except chapter 26 which, inexplicably, didn't try to be born along with all the others…)
This chapter is mostly fluff – of the cotton candy variety. But no matter which scenes I stole away and put in other chapters, it was exceptionally difficult to convey anything other but syrupy sweetness in a chapter meant to convey "contentment". It just couldn't be helped. Here's to hoping you have a good dental plan…
"I've really missed this," she says when he hands over a steaming cup of coffee and snuggles up with her under the quilt on the bench on the deck by the sliding glass doors. She's half in his lap and he's wrapped her up tightly with the arm that isn't responsible for not spilling his coffee. He worries her lips in a kiss that's languid in the way a foggy grey morning suggests and he likes the way her tongue slips across the flat line of his upper teeth when he catches her off guard.
"You taste like Colgate and Folgers."
"It's Crest and Sanka," he says and kisses the end of her nose.
"It is not," she says and burrows further into him.
He grins and lets his morning whiskers snag in her hair. He's been off world for ten days and will be going off again later on, after the sun is high in the sky and they're both under the mountain; but right now it's just the two of them and a sunrise that takes his breath away.
One of the things he loves most about Colorado is how cool the mornings are, even in the summertime – especially if those cool mornings drive Samantha Carter further into his chest. She kisses his collarbone through the cotton of his t-shirt, then his Adam's apple, and then his stubble lined jaw before he's possessed with the urge to slip his tongue into her mouth once more. It seems like that's what she was aiming for, though, because she smiles around his intrusive kiss and hums in the back of her throat.
Yeah, coffee, sunrise, cool Colorado morning, and making out with Carter. Life doesn't get much better than this.
-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-
When he's not home she does his laundry so she has an excuse to slip inside his bedroom and take deep breaths of him. She's pretty sure he wouldn't mind if she did the same while he was there but it feels intrusive, somehow, to enter his space while he occupies it. She sits on the edge of his bed to fold his socks and the handkerchiefs she was shocked to discover he apparently always carries – a remnant, he'd said, of lessons taught to him by his grandfather at a young age. The rich, sleepy smell of him floats up around her and, after his sixteen days of missions in the last seventeen, she finds she's exhausted from the not sleeping so well in a house devoid of his presence.
She wakes up later, several hours if the dusk in the room is any indicator, canted sideways with a lapful of socks spilled onto the comforter and floor and Jack crouched down in front of her – his hand on her cheek and a sweet, wistful, slightly amused smile on his face. "Hi," he says softly and leans in to kiss her mouth while she blinks blearily.
She sits up and shakes her head to clear the cobwebs. She realizes then that she's still in his room, was asleep on his bed, has been caught interloping by the man himself. "Oh," she says, suddenly unsure. "I don't usually—"
"You think I'm complaining?" he asks with a grin. "I came home to a hot blonde in my bed."
She feels the flush steal across her face, groans, then flops over to bury her face in his pillow.
He chuckles and rubs her back. "You haven't been sleeping, huh?"
"Not much," she mutters into his pillow.
"C'mon. I'll make some dinner," he says and pulls her reluctant body from his bed by her hand.
He puts her to work peeling potatoes but spends a significant amount of the time standing behind her with his chin hooked over her shoulder while his thumbs rub circles over her hipbones. He kisses her neck just below her ear and smiles against her skin when she shivers. "You can sleep in my bed, Sam, if it helps."
She blushes again. "I swear, I don't usually fall asleep in there."
"I know," he says. "But if you don't sleep when I'm not here, and that helps, it's okay."
"I'm not sure how I feel about that," she finally says after a few more passes of the potato peeler and his thumbs, "but thank you."
-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-
"How do I invite her into my bed without making her think I'm trying to get something out of her she might not be ready to give me?"
"You're asking about sex?"
"I'm asking about sleeping, doc," he says with a grin, "but I like the way you think."
He settles back into the couch and she studies him. Over the last many months she's watched as the boundless energy that had always kept him moving, that had always left his hands fidgeting with whatever was within reach, ebbed away. She is faced with a quietly confident version of the tensely strung man she'd met more than nine months before.
"When I got home yesterday I found her asleep on my bed."
Natalie raises an eyebrow – a language at which she's found current and prior members of SG-1 quite adept.
"I didn't think she was sleeping well when I wasn't home," he says with a shrug. "She confirmed that. And I told her she could sleep there when I'm not home. But the truth is, I want her in my bed when I'm in it and I don't know how to say that to her without scaring her."
"Your rule of thumb over the next long while is going to be to be open, be supportive, be encouraging, be willing to let her set the boundaries."
"So you're saying I don't say anything," he surmises.
"I'm saying you're open and honest. Make sure she knows your limits and then don't push, pressure, or become angry if her limits fall short of yours."
"I can do that."
"I thought so. Just remember, a fear of sex doesn't necessarily indicate a fear of all intimacy. She might be open to sharing your bed if she knew there wouldn't be pressure for physical intimacy."
Jack takes a deep breath as if he's buying time to consider her words. "Yeah. Okay."
-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-
She looks at her wristwatch as she wraps up her final experiment. She's shocked to find it's after eight and Jack hasn't come around to cajole her home. She closes up her lab and heads to his office to find him bent over a file with his fingers pressed against his temples. "You look cooked," she observes from the doorway. "You close to done?"
"I wish," he groans and leans back in his chair.
"Can you do that at home?"
"I dunno," he says as a grin tugs at the corner of his mouth. "Seems there's a sweet piece of work that likes my company in the evenings."
It's true. She's found she likes it when they can spend the evening curled up on the couch together, or playing backgammon, or watching the stars through the telescope on his roof or from the softly swinging hammock in the backyard. She's found she likes it when he's focused on her. Maybe she's made him focus a little too much on her, though.
Maybe, she's made him focus a little too much on her for a little too long. She can feel the tug around her mouth pulling her into a frown of discontent and then watches as his eyes drift from mischievous to confused to understanding.
"Oh no, Carter, get off that train of thought right now."
"But—"
"No. Hell, Sam, it's not like I spent that many evenings at home doing paperwork before you came into the picture. I'm sure as hell not going to start now."
She takes a steadying breath, unsure if she's grateful or worried that he knows her so well, and shores up her confidence. "How much longer do you need?"
He considers his paperwork. "Half an hour? An hour, tops."
"I'll swing by and grab something for dinner. Go home; find the game?"
He groans with a pleasure that warms her from the inside out. "That sounds fantastic." His eyes twinkle in that way they do just before he usually kisses her and she finds that she likes associating those two things – not to mention the ability to go back and remember all the times, before they were together, that his eyes twinkled just like that. She likes knowing, if they weren't on base, that he'd be kissing her right now. She likes knowing he's the guy who'd rather be at home with her than doing anything else.
"So, closer to half an hour?" she says with a saucy confidence she hasn't quite worked back up to.
"At this rate," he says with a wink, "I'm going to beat you there."
"See you soon," she says with a smile and squeezes the doorframe the way she wishes she were squeezing his waist, and heads topside to grab some dinner and find a game and wait for her man. Three things she never thought would bring her so much contentment.
-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-
When he gets home he smells pizza and finds Sam on the couch with a beer and a baseball game. She's in yoga pants, a big t-shirt that is definitely his and fluffy socks that are too warm for the weather but in deference to her cold nature. He leans against the doorway and, even though she's got to know he's watching her, he drinks her in. "Okay, just so you know," he says when a little grin starts to play around her mouth, "this is really, really hot."
She turns to him and grins. "There's pizza in the oven. Hotter now?"
"Definitely."
"You're an easy man to please," she says and kisses him on her way by to the kitchen to retrieve their dinner.
He snags her around the waist and swings her into his chest, suddenly overwhelmed by her. He buries his face in her hair as she presses her cheek into his chest. When she draws back enough to look at his face he watches as the sudden and overwhelming depth of his emotion is reflected in her eyes. And then, just a split second later overwhelmed becomes fear on her face and he lightens his own look with a grin and drops a kiss to the end of her nose, effectively breaking the unintentional pressure he'd put them under. He releases her then pushes her gently towards the kitchen.
"Pizza, beer, and baseball. What did I do to deserve you?" He says with teasing in his voice but he's shaking a little when he bends down to take off his shoes.
They dance around each other for the rest of the evening. He's not sure he knows exactly what happened but he knows something did.
He rests his hands on the tops of her feet since her toes are tucked under his thigh for warmth or contact, he's not sure which. He likes the way she lays next to him on the couch, propped up on throw pillows, watching a baseball game with him just because he likes baseball, he likes her and he likes the two of those things together.
-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-
Getting shot was really the very last on his list of things to do. He groans and flops back onto the infirmary bed. "She's gonna be so pissed."
"She's going to be concerned and then relieved," Janet interjects. "And then she's going to be pissed."
"Geez, thanks, Janet."
She comes barreling into the room, eyes wide and wild, a grimace pulling around her mouth.
"It's just a graze," Jack asserts preemptively.
"A flesh wound," Daniel agrees.
"Please take him home right now," Janet says with an aggrieved sigh but humor is evident on her face.
Later she fusses over him where she's tucked him into the couch. Her eyes are shining in that way they do just before she cries. He snags her and pulls her down onto the couch, over his lap. "I'm fine, Sam."
"This happened because I wasn't there," she says and he's sure even she can hear the irrationality in her words.
"Teal'c was there. Captain Mctierney was there – and he's the only guy in the place who outshot your record on day-one marksmanship. All of SG-7 was there. This didn't happen because you weren't there. It happened because I was going to get shot today."
"I don't think I'm cut out for being the one that's left behind."
"Even if you changed your mind, we're not going through the gate together anymore. It's not your job to watch my six. Not anymore."
"Well apparently the other people are really bad at it."
"I've been injured on your watch too, you know."
"If you're going to force me to be logical, this isn't going to work," she says but there's a small smile on her face.
"Am I ruining your pity party?"
"A little bit you are, yes."
"Samantha," he drawls and enjoys the way her eyes drop to his mouth. "I'm sorry I got shot," he murmurs as her lips brush against his.
"Me too."
They sit quietly for a while, her legs on either side of his, her weight slightly forward on her knees and her backside lightly perched on his, face to face, her hands resting softly on his ribs – the right one just below the graze. She stares at him intently until he finds himself blinking more rapidly than usual to dispel the unusual tension.
"Are you happy?" she finally asks.
His initial reaction is to give a flip answer, or turn the question back around on her, but he can see something in her face that isn't common to her. He reaches up, threads the hand on his good side through her hair, and rubs his thumb across her bottom lip. "Yeah, Sam."
She turns her face into his palm.
"I'm happy."
-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-
He hooks his sunglasses over the neck of his t-shirt and peers into the relative darkness of her garage. "You're sure we really need this stuff?"
"It's my stuff, Jack. I'd like to have it."
"Well yeah," he says, "but don't you think you'd rather have the unpacked stuff in your house? I mean, how long have these boxes been in here anyway?" He rubs a hand through a thick layer of dust and reveals the black magic marker writing on the flap of one particularly tattered box. "Does this say 'Academy papers'? You kept your papers from the Academy in a box in your garage for all these years?"
"You're not at all impressed that I needed an entire box for my papers from the Academy?"
"Impressed? Sure," he says with a shrug. "Surprised? Absolutely not." He grunts when he picks up the box and starts carting it towards his truck.
"Are you sure you don't want me to call Teal'c?"
"Teal'c gets a little too happy to see you these days," he calls over his shoulder. "That sort of thing makes a guy jealous."
"You're afraid I'm going to ditch you for Teal'c?"
"No, I'm afraid Teal'c will realize I'm not good enough for you and challenge me to a duel."
"Do the Jaffa duel?" she asks thoughtfully.
"Seriously? That's the burning question you're getting from this conversation?
"What do you mean Teal'c's too happy to see me these days?"
"It seems," Jack says with a smirk and plants his dusty hands on his hips, "that Teal'c misses having you on the team."
She scoffs, "Really?"
"Apparently he was waxing poetic about you to Mctierney."
"Wow," she says softly.
"Yeah. Sorta makes you wonder how poetic the Jaffa can get, doesn't it?" he asks with a grin.
"I miss being on the team too, you know."
"Yeah?"
"Yes," she nods. "But I like this better."
"What?" he says and then gestures between the two of them.
"Yes."
"You're saying you, Samantha Carter, mistress of the Stargate, and the ballsy-est woman I know, prefer me – a greyed out, soon to be balding and flying a desk airman of nearly 50 who burns everything he puts on a grill – to gallivanting across the Universe?"
"The Galaxy," she says with a shrug and a small smile, "but yeah."
"But if we've got the opportunity to travel to the far reaches of the Universe?"
"Oh," she says as her grin widens, "then you're toast."
"At least I know where I fit in the grand scheme of things," but he tempers his pout by pulling her into the circle of his arms.
"Hey, a girl's got to have her priorities." She pulls out of his arms and starts wiping the dust off more boxes of scientific research that can make its way into her new offices at the SGC. "You know I haven't actually met Dylan yet, right?"
"Of course you have," Jack points out. He's been at the SGC for over a…" he trails off.
"A year. He came on while I was gone," she points out helpfully. "But he's only been on SG-1 for a few weeks."
Jack considers her carefully and she gets the distinct feeling she's been examined for fissures. After a few moments he must decide no apparent cracks are in place. "We'll do dinner at O'Malley's or something."
"I'm fine," she reiterates, just in case he's faking his acquiescence.
"I didn't say you weren't," but he won't quite meet her eyes.
"Jack."
He hoists another of the boxes she'd indicated for transport and carries it off to the truck. She allows him his moment to think. When he approaches, she squares up in front of him and looks him in the eye suddenly completely Major Carter and not at all Samantha.
"I'm fine."
But then she trails a hand down his arm and tangles their fingers together. Samantha now, instead of Major Carter. "Really, babe, I'm fine."
He quirks an eyebrow at her. "I just don't want Mctierney to get the wrong idea. That I sleep with all my seconds or something."
She can't help the relieved guffaw at his expense. They've both turned back to the boxes when he says, "So…babe, huh?"
"Oh, shut up."
-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-
"Technically," she says in the voice that always makes him feel a little like a dirty young guy making eyes at his science teacher, "you don't sleep with any of your seconds."
He carefully swallows his mouthful of beer. "Um…excuse me?"
"Well, unless there's something you're not telling me about Captain Mctierney. Or Kawalsky," she says with a frown he's not sure he's buying.
"What the hell are you talking about?"
"Earlier you said you didn't want him to think you slept with all of your seconds. We're not sleeping together," she points out. Unnecessarily, in his opinion.
"Sam," he says with his best much-aggrieved sigh, "whether we're sleeping together or not, the way I feel about you, hell, the way I look at you…that's not changing."
He finds himself with a lapful of grinning, giggling Carter. Yep. Life doesn't get much better than this.
Author's Note: As you can probably tell, we're starting to deal with sexual content between our intrepid heroes. Oh, sure, so far their contact has been mostly benign. But as Jack has broached the subject with Natalie, so will it all come to a head in the final section of the story. The next chapter – Joy – is the final emotion that doesn't deal directly with physical expressions of love. And, therefore, will be a fine place for readers to end if you'd prefer to not go that route with these characters after the events Sam has dealt with.
I will wrap up the emotional component of Sam's journey (sans the final clicks of her relationship with Jack and, therefore, the emotion Love) next chapter for those of you who wish to depart before things get uncomfortably steamy (and then comfortably steamy) between the two of them. Otherwise, if you decide to join us for chapters 27 through 30, be prepared for the story to earn its M rating for something other than violence (or, now that I think about it) sex between character who aren't the main focus of this story).