The captain gazes upwards and meets the colonel's eyes, his dimples poking out with a know-it-all expression.
Aw, Hell to the holiest of Hannah's.
How long was he looking at her?
And when did her hand begin caressing the curves of his waist?!
The archaeologist is asking question after question about the Cyrian decontamination methodologies. Unsurprisingly, the man is captivated by every nook and cranny of new societies.
It's uncertain if Teal'c is listening or has long lost interest since he possesses the stoic facial expression he always does. He wanders from the conversation, retrieves his equipment from the table, claps his hands behind his back, and stands there.
Great impersonation of the Royal Guard, Big Guy.
The colonel and the captain stand closely on the other side of the room, their feet lugging them to no destination as they meander. The blonde's face is the rosiness of a cherry-red tomato, and she's desperately pushing to hide her face from her commanding officer, swinging her head left and right.
She can't acknowledge herself getting caught caressing the waist of the man himself. Like, eye-contact-caught, at that, with that damn sheepish grin that he has. Sure, it's foolish since he'd obviously feel touch on his body, but still. Let her have her moment, OK?
His waist is smooth and curvy, especially in the new dark-scarlet BDU set.
"Sir," voices Sam. Most of the time, that's all she has to say, like now. They're still frolicking — he attempting to stand before her and glimpse at her face — and he dares to chuckle. What an odious man.
Where's an alien invasion when you need one?
"Hey, Sam," begins Jack. Oh, boy, not them being off-world and him using her first name. "Do you remember the first time you told me about your belly fetish regarding my body?"
Sam releases a sound that's an anguished groan, but it's so garbled and layered that it's indistinct. Get her out of this room, please. He can be so aggravating at times because she doesn't have a belly fetish, and she will let him know just that, as she'd done since that day.
(Or does she?)
It doesn't benefit her that he's slyly cornered her by a pod, and her escape routes are limited. How did she not detect that?
"Sir," she begins once more, this time with a huff, "you and I know that I don't have a . . . belly fetish." She almost gags at the phrase.
"Oh, yeah?" challenges the colonel, and Sam's legs hit the edge of the seat. She's now halfway leaning into the chair and keeping herself upright, her hands gripping the armrests. "What would you call it, then?"
He's gaining on her. Her arms grow fatigued, and she knows it's already a losing battle, so she settles into the chair. The captain runs her fingers through the front of her messy, overly-growing pixie cut that shapes her face and nearly resembles a bushy mullet. She peeks around his massive body, noting Daniel and Isteno remaining in their conversation and Teal'c idling like a statue before meeting the colonel's eyes.
She knows he's doing this on purpose, no doubt off-world. Why did she have to touch him like that impulsively? Goodness. She bits the side of her lip and grips her knees, trying to retain the urge to do it again.
"Well?" he trails, clearly getting a kick out of this. He glances over his shoulder at the other companions in the room; he and Teal'c have a silent conversation that's so noticeable that it causes the captain to roll her eyes.
The Bros™ so annoying.
"I remember," announces Sam, even though she doesn't want to.
That outing, at first, the gesture was innocent, but it became a calling card to something hidden that's unbelievably Samantha Carter.
Funnily enough, they're practically recreating one of the night's moments at Secret Experience, a new joint in the Springs.
Sam sits, and Jack stands because he gets antsy and cannot be motionless for prolonged periods. Initially, the captain's hands are either on her thighs or knees or on the chair's armrest.
It happens like this:
It's one of those rare times when multiple teams are on downtime, are topside; they decide to have a jaunt at the new establishment in the Springs called Secret Experience. In intervals, Jack's hands were occupied with his beer or combined food that the SGC gang of maybe ten or more munched on occasionally as they came and went from the table where their DDs Teal'c, Siler, and Walter sat. Sometime that night, the captain and the CMO took a breather at the bar, their hair slightly damp with sweat and their bodies flushed. Sometime soon after, a rushing Jack, Reynolds, Ferretti, and others (whose names can't be remembered) stumble upon the ladies with their loud cackles and discussion over which team won the bowling game fair and square.
It's packed at the bar, so Jack politely pushes between the women and grabs a water cup, and the fellow bowling participants attempt to do the same on the opposing side. The captain has long legs, so she must swiftly swing and spread her legs so he can fit in the narrow space. Like the captain and chief medical officer, the colonel's skin is flushed with sweat and adrenaline from the game. He reeks of the distinct manly cologne that he can only wear away from the Mountain, and it overwhelms the senses of his second-in-command and doctor.
What can Napoleon say significantly after she and Jack's moment in one of the converted sleeping quarters dealing with the Touched virus? She's aware that the colonel was under the influence with him stroking her face and calling out to her, and she was essentially the stand-in base commander on her first day on the job, but still. It was an unforgettable first encounter.
At the bar, Jack swung his arms around Sam and Janet's necks, his chilled hands slicking their hair away from their faces. He did it out of intuition as he was still debating with those who participated in the bowling match. The blonde and brunette's outside arms rested on the bar, and their inside arms had nothing to do but wrap around him or hang awkwardly and loosely.
Sam initiated her first move by wrapping her right arm around Jack, her hand landing on the curve of his waist and the side of his stomach. He was in a tight shirt that night with loose bottoms, which made his physique open to the public. The second-in-command felt like she was in heaven as she stroked his curvy waist and muscled abdominal area. The bar top and dim lighting hid her actions, and the colonel paused his exchange to beam to her one of his brightest smiles at her touch.
Who said this was a one-way street?
The CMO wrapped her left arm around Jack's, finding solace in his muscled arm.
Outside of the Mountain, no regulations or ranks stand between comrades.
And, basically, they were like that for the remainder of that night.
"No, no, no," cuts in Jack with rebuke, "you're leaving out the most crucial part of that night."
The captain's grip on her knees tightens. Good God, he's irritating. The senior soldier tsks, stepping closer to his fellow soldier. The woman has no choice but to consent or contest, which she does the latter in torment.
"No, I didn't," she denies with a hiss.
"No?" he combats. "How about the time when you wrapped both your arms around me after Napoleon left to play a round of pool and —"
That does it. The captain roughly seizes the waist of her commanding officer with her trembling hands, pulling his large body between her legs. She releases a series of shaky breaths while closing her eyes, then licks her suddenly dry lips.
Sam's blue orbs meet his brown ones, then, ever so slowly, she leans forward and rests her forehead on his stomach with her hands still circling his body. Jack's right-hand rises to caress the nape of her neck, his fingers raying through the shorter strands at the back of her head. He smiles as he feels her breath release and tension releasing gradually from her body.
He knows she needed this; it's traveled with her from Command to Cyria.
This is occurring off-world and during a diplomatic milk-run with a possible new ally, but neither Jack nor Sam care. They've given their life to their country; the least they can receive in return is this — them.
Jack can feel that they're now the center of attention. He uses his body to block his captain from view.
Now, they're not sir and Carter, but Jack and Sam.
A/N: A "different" side of SJ and OT3 SJ2/SJJ. Sue me. Sam's 'ism/philia/ETC is now known. But, can you guess Jack's? It's hinted at in the text and will be fully revealed soon.