Something happened.
Something that took place a week before the night he went to Sam's house to apologize. Before everything went to Hell.
At the time, Jack had kept it to himself. But now, he had a decision to make, and Sam was at the crux of it.
Hammond had invited him over for a beer at his place.
Not a big deal, normally. But Jack felt a sense of foreboding in his gut as he took the ride out there, having an inkling what it might be about. And if he was right, it meant big changes were coming.
He'd been dreading the moment since George started talking about retirement two years ago. And sure enough, he was half a bottle in when ol' George broke the news. Not retirement, but a transfer to the Pentagon. Either way, he was leaving them.
Jack took it in stride the best he could, but it was hard. After all, he wasn't just losing a mentor, but the best Commanding Officer he'd ever served with. He went through the next beer quickly as his thoughts turned to how much his loss would impact the SGC, let alone his team.
And before he had a chance to ask what schmuck would be replacing him, George dropped the other shoe.
Him. He was the schmuck. Unbeknownst to Jack, the powers that be had formulated a plan that outlined the rest of his career. Plans that included him taking over the SGC until George retired. At which time he would head to Washington as the subject matter expert to the Joint Chiefs and the President. Him. Earmarked for General.
At the time it had sounded enticing. Not for the guaranteed paperwork nightmare of course. Or the rank. But because Sam was getting married. And the distance would've kept him from drowning himself.
Then everything changed...
And now he knew what it felt like to be inside her.
What it felt like to have her clutch onto him like a lifeline and relinquish control; trusting him with her safety and pleasure in her rarest moments of complete vulnerability.
What it felt like to have her come apart in his arms. Which was…well, the proverbial icing on the cake.
And while witnessing her orgasms felt sinfully indulgent, knowing that he was responsible, gave him a sense of pride and fulfillment that was unparalleled.
How he wished he could bottle every one of those precious moments. Every shudder and jerk of her hips. Every little moan, whimper and gasp that left her lips.
He was obsessed with it. Obsessed with her.
And it made his decision easy.
He knew what he was going to do, he only hoped she wouldn't try to talk him out of it.
She was facing away from him now, rummaging through the bag and pulling out fresh clothes for them to change into. Reminding him why they needed them in the first place. Right.
He smirked, looking down at the obscene wet spot covering his groin before popping the button to shuck his jeans. Christ. The last time he came in his pants, he was in middle school. And Sam was…. well, not even born yet.
An exasperated sigh escaped as she turned, handing him a pair of boxers and some clean jeans with a cheeky grin.
It made him wonder if she even realized how much she had him wrapped around her finger.
What he'd be willing to do and how far he'd be willing to go to make her happy.
Murmuring a sheepish thanks, he watched her turn partially away from him, back in front of the boxes where her clothes were stationed. She reached down, and when he heard the rasp of her zipper, he froze.
And proceeded to blatantly ogle her as she got undressed. His length twitching with renewed interest as she tugged off her soaked panties and rolled them into her dirty jeans. Dirty old man indeed.
She talked to him while she situated the tiny blue panties in front of her, turning them around in her hands so she could put them on. Was that lace? There was something about food, the healing device, and the guys, but he couldn't concentrate. Not with her tight, bare, scrumptious-looking six, begging for attention.
He stifled a groan, his mouth watering at the thought of walking up behind her and kneeling between her legs. Spreading her cheeks apart, and pushing his tongue deep inside…
Movement disrupted his fantasy and his eyes rose, meeting hers. Oh.
There was a curious look on her face as she eyed him over her shoulder. Only then did he hear the low hungry hum in his chest, realizing the sound must've tipped her off.
He cleared his throat, offering a weak smirk and an apologetic shrug for being caught obviously not listening.
But the reprimanding shake of her head that he was waiting for never came. Instead, she flashed him a saucy grin and gave a little wiggle of her tush that made him chuckle.
Yep, she drove him crazy.
And now she's mine.
Achingly hard now, he palmed himself down at an angle, and into the leg hole of his fresh pair of boxers with an uncomfortable grunt before slipping on his jeans. Doing his level best to think of something, anything else.
When she spoke again, it was to say she'd be right back, and he glanced up in time to see the door slide close behind her as he yanked the zipper and buttoned up.
Then there was silence. And she was gone.
She was gone.
He winced, exhaling harshly as a sharp pain lanced through his chest. Ouch.
Then there was another one, so intense it took his breath away.
His face twisted in agony and confusion as he turned and stumbled to the boxes, sitting down quickly as his knees gave.
What was happening?
Hot. He felt hot all of the sudden. Tiny beads of sweat prickling his brow as his vision tunneled. His hand went to his chest and he fisted the fabric, drawing in thin air. There was a sense of impending doom.
She's not safe. Where did she go?
It took him a second before he realized. Before it became abundantly clear. Shit.
He was having a panic attack.
Struggling to pull it together, he exhaled deep ragged breaths, blinking back the gathering tears; his hand trembling as he forced it off of his chest and onto his knee.
"No, no, no," he muttered as he slammed his eyes shut.
He hadn't had a panic attack in ages. Not since he came back home from his last deployment. After being captured, and tortured, and…fuck! It had taken months and months of grueling therapy to get back to some kind of normalcy.
And now here he was, barely holding it together.
The stuff with Knight. It must've triggered something.
He concentrated on slowing his hammering heart. Funneling reassuring thoughts in with the deep breaths, like he'd been taught years ago. Calm down. She's in the next room. She's fine you idiot.
The humming of the ship came back to him, and his vision slowly cleared when he opened his eyes.
A different kind of panic was brewing now. Whatever it was, he needed to fix it, fast. She was barely thirty feet away from him for God's sake. They hadn't even talked about moving in together yet. He had just assumed it would be the next step. But would if she said no?
And even if they did live together, what would happen when she went out for a run, or a ride, or to work? Hell, when she went off-world?
He wheezed as his heart started pounding again, knocking against his ribcage. And it took several deep shaky breaths to get himself back from the dizzying edge.
Jesus. He couldn't let her see him like this. It was already bad enough she had to deal with all of his other bullshit baggage, and now this?
She was fierce, and one of the most independent people he knew. If he crowded her, it would scare her away.
You'll smother her and she'll run.
He had a week to get his shit together. Maybe it would be enough time for it to go away.
It had to be.
It was a while before he was able to settle himself completely, and he dropped his head into his hands, exhausted from the effort.
A few moments later, he grimaced as he straightened up, expecting Sam back at any moment.
The dormant pain and soreness from every cut and abrasion seemed to be slowly rising to the surface. The inevitable adrenaline dump from the last few hours making itself known.
He worked his wrists into a few rotations, testing their strength and range of motion. While they didn't hurt anymore, his experience in tactical first aid training told him that wasn't exactly a good thing. Most likely it meant nerve damage.
Well, it wouldn't be long. A few minutes with the healing device and he'd be good as new. Good as new. He scoffed.
There was no doubt the healing device had saved his ass more than once over the years. But the whole concept still didn't sit right with him.
Sometimes pain was a good thing. Sometimes it was that first sharp pull of a stitch when he tried to roll out of bed still half asleep, that reminded him why he got hurt in the first place. That he was too slow, too distracted, too naïve.
It taught him. With every twinge of pain during the PT that followed. With every nightmare that jolted him awake at night. With every scar that littered his aging body…not to make that mistake again.
He unwrapped one wrist and then the other. The deep red gouges now purple. Still no pain. He pursed his lips. There would certainly be scarring if they didn't have a device handy.
And part of him felt like he deserved it. A visible reminder of his failure to keep her safe.
The panic attack was starting to make sense now. A culmination of everything he'd been feeling from the past week. Guilt, helplessness, and the fear of losing her, bearing down on him all at once.
The door slid open, and his heart stuttered in relief, thinking it was her.
It was Jacob.
"Aw, crap."
Jacob smirked as he walked over to him. "Relax Jack. Sam was filling the guys in on a couple of things and I told her I'd handle your injuries."
When Jacob got close enough, he motioned for him to outstretch an arm, frowning at the deep wounds.
Jack demonstrated his flexibility instead, twisting his wrists back and forth for show. "Actually, I think I'm good Jacob. They've stopped bleeding. I think they'll heal fine on their own."
"Jack." The disapproving tone spoke volumes as Jacob sat down next to him. Jack hung his head.
"It's my fault."
"No, it wasn't. Sam told me what happened."
"I could've stopped her."
Jacob barked a laugh. "Come on Jack, you know better than that. If there's one thing I've learned about my daughter over the years, it's that once she puts her mind to something…there's no stopping her."
"She's my responsibility."
"I think we both know you are way past that line son."
Jack puffed out a breath of resignation. "Yeah."
"Jack, we're both adults here. Let's be honest. You were way past that line a long time ago."
"It's different now."
"Of course it is. Caring for someone is one thing. Acting on it is another."
Jack met his eyes. "How long have you known?"
Jacob smirked. "What? Your feelings for her? Hell. The moment we met at that award ceremony shindig. When both of you fed me that deep space telemetry crap. The way you looked at her, hanging on her every word? Please. I was married you know. I just didn't think it would take you this long to pull your head out of your ass and act on it. Were you really going to let her get married to that shrub?"
Inhaling a deep breath, Jack blew the air out of his cheeks. "He was stable. A good guy. He made her happy."
"And what, you're not a good guy?" Jack shook his head solemnly.
"No Jake, I'm not."
"But she thinks you are. She wants a life with you." His heart sung for a moment at the thought of her saying those words.
"She has me."
"Have you thought about what you're going to do?"
"Yeah, I'm retiring."
"Does she know that?"
"Not yet. But it's the best option for her career."
Jacob nodded in agreement. "It'll be tough for you, letting her go out there alone."
Jack's jaw clenched, his throat closing in. "She won't be alone. The guys will be there."
"You know what I mean."
The strained exhale pushed through his teeth. "Tough isn't the word," he admitted. "It'll be a lot harder than that."
"And you can handle that?"
"As long as we're together, I can handle anything." God how he wanted to believe that.
"Good. Because I would hate to have to kick your ass for breaking her heart."
Jack looked over at him, seeing the smile behind his eyes. "That would never happen."
Jacob motioned out for his arm again. "I know. Now give me that wrist. Sam will have my hide if I leave even a scratch on you."
Jack angled his body, offering the first one, and watched as Jacob closed his eyes and raised the device. "Sorry about earlier Jacob."
"Shh, I'm trying to concentrate here."
Jack smirked as the warm glow hovered over the injury.
It was a long moment before the silence was broken by the sound of Jacob's voice.
"Dad."
Jack looked up to see Jacob open one eye and meet his gaze before closing it again; a corner of his mouth twitching. "Call me Dad, Jack."
It was a fond sendoff and a bit of a hike to get from the clearing Jacob had landed on to the cottage with their bags.
The first thing he noticed when they stepped off of the ship was the temperature change. A good ten-degree difference, from low eighties to low seventies. Making him wonder how cold it would get when the sun dipped below the horizon.
As if reading his mind, Sam shivered in his peripheral. "Damn, I didn't even think about getting sweatshirts or jackets."
"Don't worry about it. We'll be fine." He gave her shoulder a playful bump and watched her glimmer of sadness fade.
The crisp clean air never felt so good. And the trees. He was actually happy to see trees again. Funny how those near-death experiences tended to put everything into perspective.
The cottage was a cute rancher, sitting atop a small ridge and overlooking what looked to be at least an acre of big pine and forest growth.
"Nice."
Sam smiled over at him as they trudged up the hill, seemingly cheerful that he approved. "I thought so too. Although you can never really tell by the photos. But it's pretty isolated and it was one of the few places that offered grocery delivery so…"
Red wouldn't have been one of his personal choices for the exterior if it was his place, but the dark hue did offer a certain kind of charm and blended in with the surrounding greens and browns more than he thought it would.
Then he spotted the chimney.
And the extremely enticing vision of a naked Carter silhouetted in firelight was rudely interrupted by an intense growling coming from her stomach.
His eyes narrowed. He despised that sound.
This time it had been unavoidable. Seeing that they had been too busy throughout the day trying not to die and all.
But he learned early on that going without food was a bad habit of hers; claiming forgetfulness when she was knee-deep in a project.
And maybe that was when his usual concern for her well-being blossomed into something more. Because after that, it became his daily mission to see that she was taken care of.
He told himself he would be doing the same if it was one of the guys. It was a lie of course. And he knew it for sure the first time he brought food to her lab when she had forgone yet another lunch. Watching her dip her head shyly as she unwrapped the sandwich and took an appreciative bite. The look that crossed between them when she swallowed, smiled, and murmured a gentle "Thank you sir."
He lusted for her of course. Always had. But the warmth that bloomed inside his chest at that very moment, filled a void he had forgotten existed.
It was an opportunity to care for her, within the confines of the regulations. And he had taken full advantage.
The next day, he'd pulled aside the First Sergeant in the commissary and convinced him to make her favorite menu items, blue Jello and chicken noodle soup, daily standards.
When they went off-world, he'd stuff the recesses of his pack with the peanut butter protein bars she liked and her favorite chocolate when weather permitted.
Over the years, it became harder and harder to hold back. And during difficult times, he offered what he could.
A shoulder of support when she was injured or sick. Short hugs when she was upset or grieving. It was never enough. Not by far. And he found himself consistently torn in two. Driving by her house after particularly rough missions, only to lose the nerve to knock on the door and give her the attention she deserved.
Hearing her stomach growl now, reminded him that there was nothing holding him back anymore. It had been a brutal day. She'd been through so much. Fought for their lives and won. She was hungry and sore. And now he wanted nothing more than to make up for lost time.
The lingering tightness in his chest eased just thinking about it.
"So, you said something about groceries?"
"Yeah, it was a package deal. The fridge should be stocked with enough food to last the week." She lifted a brow in his direction. "You know, I did mention all of this to you on the ship while we were changing."
"Um, you were naked Sam. I mean, come on. You're lucky we even got out of that room." He chuckled at the roll of her eyes as they crested the hill and approached the covered cedar deck that wrapped around the back of the place.
The set of old rocking chairs added a rustic flare and the quarter cord of split white oak, stacked neatly on a patio slab off to the side, gave his earlier fantasy new life.
He watched as Sam keyed in a code and retrieved the key from the little lockbox hanging on the door knob, before slotting the key in the deadbolt and opening the door.
Inside reminded him of his cabin. Only warmer. Pale yellow for the country kitchen off to the left and exposed beams and grey stone for the open living and dining space to the right. The large grey plaid sofa mixed well with the soft leather club chairs and dark wood furniture.
She placed the backpack on the round dining table and made her way into the kitchen, opening the fridge. "Eureka! What would you like?"
"Anything, I'm starving." He picked up the pack and motioned towards the small hallway jutting out to the left after the kitchen. The only plausible direction their bedroom could be hiding. "I'm gonna take these back."
Spotting the bathroom on the left, he turned to the right, and froze when he stepped across the threshold. "Uh, Sam?"
"Yeah?"
"What kind of package?"
"What?" He heard the rustling of plastic containers.
"You said the food delivery was a part of some kind of package?"
"Yeah." She chuckled. "It's kind of funny actually…" The rustling stopped. "Why, is something wrong?"
"Wrong?" He cringed as his voice cracked, clearing it quickly. "No. Not wrong."
He heard the footsteps approach him from behind, then a swift inhale. "Oh."
"Yeah."
The bedroom was huge. And the four-post king size bed was the focal point, accessible on both sides by two long tiered steps. Even as tall as he was, he would have difficulty getting in without using them. It looked plush, adorned with a down comforter, lofty pillows and...rose petals?
But what really caught his attention, and the main source of his pleasantly stunned state, was the huge mirror on the ceiling above the bed. Framed in crown molding. Interesting.
"Um, that, was not in the pictures."
There was a small table to the left of the doorway, and on it sat a bottle of champagne chilling in a chrome ice bucket. A small embossed card leaned against it. He dropped the bags to the side and picked it up. "Congratulations Newlyweds!"
His eyebrows climbed, and with a lop-sided grin, he flipped it and turned so she could see. "Something you want to tell me sweetheart?"
The flush on her face cascaded down her neckline. "I…uh…see that's what was funny…and what I was going to tell you. It was the honeymoon package…that allowed the food delivery." A nervous giggle escaped before she stifled it with her fingers, and he loved how flustered she was getting. Or maybe it was the way he was looking at her, like a delicious morsel to be consumed.
Thoughts of watching her in the mirror, writhing and moaning as he thrusted into her, had his cock throbbing for attention.
She shuffled back and startled when she made contact with the doorframe, her hands gesturing aimlessly in front of her. "And I used our fake names to book it..." She was babbling and it was adorable. "Our married names…because we're married…on paper…on the documents I mean."
He stepped to her, bracing his other hand against the door frame above her as he leaned in and nodded slowly in understanding. "Mmhmm. So. Sex then."
Her eyes flicked down to his lips, and he could see the confusion behind them. "Huh?"
"The reasoning behind the grocery delivery," he rumbled. Reaching up and grazing the soft curved edge of the card over her slightly parted lips. "Lots and lots of sex." She visibly swallowed as the card continued slowly down the length of her neck.
He bowed his head and closed in, sliding his tongue along her bottom lip before capturing it between his. There was a low whine in the back of her throat as he suckled on it with a hum, letting it go to murmur along her jawline. "Newlyweds would be too busy taking care of each other to do anything else. It makes sense."
Eyes closed; she leaned her head back against the frame. Taking shallow breaths as he brushed his lips over to her ear, placing kisses around the shell of it.
"So. Are you going to let me take care of you wife?"
Her shuddering exhale tickled the hairs on his neck. "You always take care of me."
He groaned at the breathy praise, feeling himself twitch and drip reflexively. "The things I want to do to you Sam. You have no idea."
She opened her eyes, a small smile playing on her lips as his mouth found its way back to hers. "I think I might."
His husky laugh was a thick decadent sound, the puffs of air warm on her lips. "Honey, I haven't even scratched the surface yet."