"Carter?" Jack's knuckles tap softly against the metal frame of the door to Sam's lab before sliding back to the depths of his pockets as he glides into the half light of her workspace. It's always a sort of moody dark and beeping blinky bright in Carter's lab. She's smiling up at him from whatever beyond his grasp project is on the screen in front of her. Carter always looks up, registers it's him, then smiles that break-of-dawn-on-a-planet-having-a-fireworks-show-next-to-a-supernova smile. He likes how she makes sure it's him first, that it's his smile.
"Good afternoon, Sir," she says. "What's up?"
"I think you mean good evening, Carter." Jack taps his watch and drops into the stool next to hers. "It's 1830." He props his elbow on the edge of the lab table and leans his face into his cupped hand. "Whatcha doin'?"
"Shit," her blue eyes widen then close, blonde hair falling into them as she drops her head and sighs. "I completely lost track of time, Sir."
"Again," he says.
"Again." She rubs the heels of her palms into her eyes before looking at him again. "What did I miss?"
His smile is warm like his gaze, dark brown eyes reflecting the blinking lights. "Dinner, for starters," he says, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a bag of trail mix and pushing it toward her with his long fingers..
Sam's hand brushes his as she gently tugs the foil package into her grasp and she smiles back. The trail mix is her favorite, the one with the yogurt covered craisins and pistachios with more cashews and fewer peanuts. "You take such good care of me, Sir."
Jack allows his hand to drift close to hers and the edge of his pinky to graze against her wrist as she tears open the package, still smiling at him. "That's my job, Carter. Taking care of you." He sits with her as she snacks on the trail mix and tells him about what caught her attention for the better part of the day, pinky lingering against wrist in a way they don't dare stop or acknowledge.
