AN: Still Threads – Before Daniel comes back. You didn't think I was going to send them to bed and leave you hanging, did you?

The whole scenario was pretty surreal. When Sam had asked Jack to come over, the most she had hoped for was that he could offer a friendly shoulder, maybe a hug, and now they were walking into her bedroom. To sleep, she reminded herself. This was going to take some time to feel real, unlike the nerves in her stomach.

"Ah, the inner sanctum," he mused, turning himself around for the overview. "I've wondered about this place, you know?"

"Everything you hoped it would be?"

"And more," Jack squeezed her hand and watched her cheeks stain with pink.

"Uhh, bathroom is through here," she said, dropping his hand and opening a drawer in the vanity. "Towels are in that cabinet and here's a spare toothbrush for you," she said setting it on the counter top and walking back to the bedroom to face him. She was uncomfortably nervous. They had shared sleeping quarters dozens if not hundreds of times, but this was different. What had felt like a good idea in the living room, a matter of practicality, was a little more intimidating and a lot more intimate now that it was staring her in the face. "Sorry, I don't have any more comfortable clothes that would fit you for sleeping," she apologized with a little shrug.

"In the foreseeable future, I sense at least the possibility of nakedness with you, and as Oma Desala would say, 'The journey of a thousand miles begins with taking off your pants,'" he informed her as he slipped out of his jeans and tossed them onto a nearby chair.

"Oh really?" she replied with none of the shyness he expected. In fact, she was smiling fairly widely now and letting her eyes roam his half-dressed form. He wasn't entirely convinced that it wasn't a facade, but a Carter smile was always worth enjoying.

"Oh, yes. In fact, I'm foreseeing some of it right now," he added, "up here," with a tap to his temple. "Nice apples."

"Excuse me?" Sam asked with laughing eyes and a feigned reprimand.

"The apples. I like 'em," he explained with a tilt of his lips and nodded toward the painting of the fruit bowl on the wall. Sam tracked his eyes and giggled revealing her dimple. Impulsively, Jack reached for her, needing to trace that sweet divot on her cheek with his thumb. Sam's eyes were still laughing when she leaned her cheek into his palm. Gradually, her eyes grew more serious, but he couldn't look away. The lighthearted moment dissipated, making way for the warm weight of possibilities. Long seconds passed with her blue eyes holding steady on his. He knew she wouldn't let it continue. Any second now, she would step back and start babbling about something that didn't matter. Finally, her eyes broke contact with his, but he watched in fascination and undeserved anticipation as she now looked at his mouth. Her breathing turned shallow and her pinkened lips dropped open slightly next to his thumb as she made eye contact with him again.

"Careful, Carter," he rumbled his warning, but the twitch of his mouth that she saw told her it was also a challenge. Careful. Sam had spent her whole life being careful, holding back, denying herself. But she didn't want to be careful anymore, at least, not tonight. She stepped closer to him instead, taking note of the fact that even though he had warned her off, he was still running a thumb back and forth on her cheek. Careful? No thanks. Reaching up, she matched him, running her fingertips along the weathered lines of his face and following them with her eyes. Her thumb caught on the scar below his chin, and she wondered where it had come from. She hadn't asked him before. Settling her hand on his shoulder, she let her thumb drag down the side of his neck. He was always tanned here it seemed.

"No," she said, her voice crackling but resolute. Sam's pink lips were slick and shiny where her tongue had just touched them, and only a glance at them was making Jack thirsty. She was staring him down again, and his blood was heating up quickly. If he hadn't already, Jack was close to losing control of this situation. Her defiance wasn't exactly new, but her timing had been better. At least she had left off the 'Sir' this time. Stubborn, beautiful, hungry, and determined to get what she wanted—Sam wouldn't look away. She wouldn't step back.

"No?" he asked with a raised eyebrow. The taunting grin had slipped off of his lips now, and if Sam didn't know better, she would have thought that General Jack O'Neill was nervous. He had dispelled her own nerves with his antics, but now he seemed similarly afflicted. It wasn't a look she had seen on him before, so she had no idea how to fix it. Jack dropped his hand from her cheek.

"You said I wouldn't lose you, right?" Sam asked, adding her free hand to his other shoulder. It would be so easy now to pull herself up and kiss him.

"You won't," Jack answered with conviction, and a squeeze to her waist. He had to make her understand how true this was, and words seemed woefully inadequate.

"So why not?" Sam pressed, toying with the ends of his hair behind his ear. She watched as he weighed the options. With a flick of his tongue against his mouth, and a barely perceptible twitch under his left eye, Sam watched herself become the object of Jack's decision-making skills. She had watched this hundreds of times, and there was something about knowing that process for him that turned her on even more. Jack wasn't just thinking about kissing her. He was thinking three moves ahead.

"I don't think..." he answered with a bowed head, then with a shift in his approach he cleared his throat and began again with his eyes on hers. "You've had a tough week. Let's just... let's wait, maybe. For a while." But he couldn't help himself. He needed both of his hands on her. He could feel her bottom ribs under his thumbs and the way the curve of her hips made his fingers splay outward. He could feel the way that she continued to move closer to him bit by bit, even though he had tried to discourage her.

"I'm tired of waiting," she shared nakedly, as she slipped her fingers fully into his hair. Tilting her face up to his, her nose brushed along his cheekbone. She could feel him breathing hotly against the corner of her mouth, and she could see his eyes darkened and following her as she moved closer to him. She may have pressed closer, but she wouldn't take what he didn't want to give her. "Do you wanna kiss me?" she asked with her lips just a whisper away from his ear.

"Don't want you to have regrets," he cautioned. Jack knew his denial was hollow when he couldn't stop his hands from pulling her into him. One of them had found that sliver of bare skin at her lower back again while the other moved up to cradle the back of her neck.

"That's not what I asked, Jack," she assured him as she pulled back enough to look into his eyes. She needed him to know that this wasn't a ploy or a game or an attempt to be what she thought he wanted. This was just her, Sam, and this was what she wanted. "I could never regret this. I want you," she told him with eyes on his that refused to waver.

Any sense of propriety that Jack was still trying to hold onto vanished in an instant. Years of self-denial and circumspect behavior crumbled to dust and blew away. If she changed her mind tomorrow morning, at least he would have this memory. It would probably kill him and sustain him simultaneously for the rest of his life if she walked away, but he couldn't deny her.

The taste of her kiss was sweeter than he remembered—less like cherry and more like Sam. The feel of her lips was softer and more certain. The last time he had kissed her she had been someone else who didn't taste like cherries or Sam, but now she was just Sam. She was Sam who wanted him, or at least she was Sam who wanted to kiss him. Her hands held him close, and her lips pulled him closer, instantly reaching for more after each taste. Jack needed more too. With a firm hand, he guided her lower body closer to press against him. They had tried keeping their distance for years, and it was time for a change.

Sam was desperate for a full breath, but there was no way she was going to give up his mouth for it. He must have felt the same because he tilted her head just a little more with his fingers on her neck, and began a new assault. His tongue provoked her lips with flicks that weren't quite enough, but the tease was ironically gratifying. Sam wanted more. She wanted his tongue in her mouth, but while she was formulating a plan to make it happen, she felt warm fingers slip just under the waist of her pants, and press dents into her skin. He would leave little pink dots under his fingerprints. God, what a great tattoo that would be—Jack's fingerprints on her skin. Without her own consent, she sucked gently at his lip and nipped him, but with or without her consent, he seemed to enjoy it. Sam felt his mouth tighten into a little smile against hers.

Jack wasn't at all surprised that Sam was a feisty little kisser, but he was pretty happy about it. He had glimpses in the past, but every time it was affected in some way so that he couldn't be sure it was a good representation of her. Alien viruses, mind stamps, utter shock. There was that one time with Dr. Carter from the other timeline, but she was just, oddly, a totally different person. Sam's kiss was everything that she was—strong, unsure, soft, assertive, curious. The list could go on, and it probably would another time. Assuming there was another time. Right now, there was only this time, and it needed to count. Giving her back a little of her own, he softly nipped at her top lip until she let a little whimper, or maybe it was a sigh, escape. Either way, Jack took his advantage, and slipped his tongue between her now swollen lips.

Sam hummed her satisfaction against his tongue, and curled her fingers tightly against him where they had dropped to his chest. It was a good thing too, or she would have left marks on his neck with her nails. She had wanted this, to taste him this way, and she did, stroking his tongue with her own. He tasted of cinnamon and coffee—spicy and bitter with just a hint of sweetness. He tasted like Jack. Although she had wanted this, she couldn't shake the feeling that she wasn't in control of it. Jack's hand against her neck was steering the angle of their kiss. His hand at her waist was securing her to his body. And now, the tip of his tongue was stroking her mouth, silently asking her to 'come here.' She could have resisted, but she didn't want to. Letting her body press fully into him, one hand slipped back to his jaw, and the other around his back. She needed to feel him everywhere in the same way that he seemed to need it.

The little rub of Sam's hip against him, and the way she was pulling his tongue into her mouth was giving Jack ideas. Pulling back slowly, he smirked against her lips when she gave a disappointed grumble. Soothing her disappointment with short, sweet kisses to her mouth, her cheek, her jaw, and finally her neck, he slowly decreased the temperature in the room before pulling her in for a hug. Sam was breathing heavily too against his neck, so at least he knew he wasn't just losing his stamina in his old age.

"Jack..." she breathed against him.

"Hmm, yeah?" he hummed into her hair.

"Jack." Sam wasn't exactly sure what she was trying to say, but his name was all that would come to her.

"Yeah, that's me," he answered, and Sam pulled back, reluctant to let go of him, but eager to see him. His cheeks had some color to them, and his eyes were a deep brown. The gold and amber flecks and mischief that his eyes normally held were gone. His hand reached for her again to rest against her cheek, and she leaned into him. It was an innocent gesture, but it had been the start of something a little less innocent—something she hoped she would never forget.

"I gotta say," he began, "I am so glad that didn't suck. I mean, you think you know, but there's always a chance..." And she was giggling again—the sweetest sound ever. "Didn't suck, right?"

"Didn't suck," she answered with a grin and a kiss to his jaw before tucking her face into his neck. Jack held her tightly to him, and not for the first time he enjoyed the way her body aligned with his—her hips right there contending with his. He was several inches taller than she was, but her long, lean legs hadn't gotten the memo.

"So, you're saying you want to do it again?" he asked.

"Oh yeah. A lot." Sam had no idea what to do about their situation, or even what he wanted. But she did know that she wanted him.

"Carter, you surprise me. After all these years with a pristine record, and you're just going to throw it all away?"

"Sorry, I know how you hate surprises," she answered, pulling back to enjoy the teasing that was in his eyes now. "But it's getting harder to care about being good."

"Yeah, harder," he agreed with a smirk. "It's possible that I've been a bad influence on you. You used to be so... good," he finished with a little sneer.

"Please, I've been serving under you for eight years. You think you haven't rubbed off on me?"

"Wait a minute. I think there's a joke in there somewhere... two maybe." he mused with a dirty little glance down her body.

Following her lead Jack ditched his over shirt and climbed into the bed, settling in face to face with messy-haired (his fault), red-eyed (not his fault), and swollen-lipped (definitely his fault) Samantha Carter. Disheveled had never looked better than it did on her.

Jack reached for her—tracing the line of her bottom lip with his fingertip. Sam closed her eyes at his touch and sighed softly. It felt nice, but she didn't feel like he intended it to be anything else. Opening her eyes, she saw that he looked thoughtful, like he was still deciding something. His serious brown eyes were following his finger across her mouth

"What?" she asked him. Sam watched his eyes find hers. At first, he looked as if he had been caught misbehaving, but then she saw something like sincerity cross his features.

"Why now?" he asked. Jack had done some pretty crazy things at her behest over the past eight years, but this was different. If he was going to put it all on the line, he wanted to understand this time. It wasn't about his career, or a court-martial. Those were just details, but there was only so much that he could give her of himself without risk.

Reaching both hands around his neck, Sam found the chain that held his dog tags and the base self-destruct key, and carefully removed them. Setting it on the nightstand next to her own behind her, she looked back at him.

"You told me once that we operate in the greys—not black and white, and that sometimes the best we can do is make the choice that we can live with."

"Sounds like me."

"I can live with lying to the Air Force. I can't live with lying to you. And I can't lie to myself. Not anymore." Jack wasn't upset about ranking higher than the U.S. Military on her list, but he did worry about her ability to handle the deception. Maybe that was a discussion for another day.

"That's a damn good reason," he concluded and dropped a soft, kiss on her mouth. "So, what exactly have you been lying to me about? And, please, don't spare the details." Sam smiled broadly, grateful for his inability to have a serious discussion. The levity gave her room to breathe.

"Maybe another time."

"Deal."

"I know my timing probably seems suspect," Sam began again, needing him to know the truth, "but I've been thinking about this for a while. At least I had been before I showed up at your house that day."

"Did you hate me?" The question was out before he could stop himself, and he was a little afraid of her answer.

"No. Hated myself a little," she confessed. "For waiting so long. For making everything else more important. For being afraid."

"Of me?"

"Of losing you. Even though I never had you."

"You did have me. Always will." Sam was surprised that she could still doubt it. Hearing him say it was really more of a formality at this point from any objective measure. Even though she had been engaged to another man, he had still come to her to offer support when her father lay dying. Sliding an arm around his waist she pulled herself into him. Her face buried against his throat was exactly where she wanted to be. One long arm worked its way under her head and another held her close, running up and down her back. The terrifying truth was, she was fighting back some words that were probably premature. She had loved him for ages, but there were different sorts of love, weren't there? Was she in love with him? Was being in love even a thing?

"Love the way you smell," she told him. Sam settled for something no less true, but more appropriate as she inhaled his scent into her body. Her heart was still beating too fast from thinking of what she wanted to say to him.

"Eau du Pepperoni?" he asked.

"You know, someday I'm going to say something nice to you, and you're not going to make a joke," she answered with a playful thump of her hand onto his chest.

"Don't hold your breath."

"Why would I, when I can enjoy the aroma of stale pizza?"

"That's good. That's funny," he responded without amusement. Silence stretched on between them, but not an uncomfortable one. Jack had always liked that about her. She wasn't uncomfortable with silence. She may push him from time to time to talk more about important things, but nine times out of ten she understood when he wouldn't talk. She had learned, he hoped, how to interpret the different tones of his silence from broody to bored. All that space she gave him just made him want to pull her closer and give her more of what she wanted.

"Love everything about you," he rumbled low into her hair. He felt her sharp inhale against his throat at his words and his lips twitched upward in satisfaction. He wanted to affect her—wanted to know that the things that meant something to him also meant something to her. And as much as he wasn't one to spill his guts all day long, he knew what they were doing with their "love this," or their "love that." They were just beginning to transition from "Hey, Carter" to "Love you, Samantha."

"How can you actually know that though? You don't even know everything about me."

"Wanna tell me?"

"No way, you're gonna have to find out on your own, Mister."

"Are you a cuddler? That's one I don't know."

"It's a secret."

Sam held him tighter and tilted her face up more. She needed to feel the warmth of his skin on her lips. Haltingly, she placed a quiet kiss on his throat and felt him swallow hard. Taking confidence from this she repeated her kiss. Again, and again until she was able to reach up to that line on his throat where smooth skin met prickly stubble. Sweetness hit her bottom lip, with his roughness on her top lip and with a flick of her tongue, she let out a quiet moan, feeling its vibrations through her core and down into her toes.

"Sam, what are we doing here?" he asked a little breathlessly, pushing her back gently with a hand on her shoulder. He had put off asking, wanting to live out this dream as long as she would let him, but he knew what it was like to get close to her, only to have her pull away. He wasn't sure he could do it again, and still recognize himself on the other side. "Don't get me wrong. Whatever it is, I'm enjoying it, but what are we doing? What are we doing tomorrow morning?"

"Breakfast?" she offered. She knew what he was asking, but she didn't have the answer yet.

"And after breakfast?" he pressed, not giving in to her joke.

"Don't think less of me, but... would you be okay with just keeping it under the radar for now?" Sam watched his eyebrows shoot up. "Not forever. I just need to get my bearings."

"No, no. That's fine. I can do covert."

"Might be kind of fun, actually," she suggested, but he wasn't smiling. "What? What's wrong?"

"Carter, if you aren't sure, maybe we should just take a step back," he offered as he began to disentangle his arms from her body.

"What? No, why? Is that what you want?" she asked, securing a hand to his arm. Silently, he regarded her, noticing the panic that was touching her eyes, and he was annoyed with himself for having put it there.

"You've been going through some things, and it just feels like maybe this is too soon for you."

"I told you, I've been thinking about this for a while. This isn't a whim for me. Not a rebound. Not a distraction." Sam told him confidently. Jack wanted to believe her. "But up until a couple of hours ago, it wasn't even possible. Maybe I just got used to the idea of being alone. It's okay if you don't believe me yet."

"I do," he brushed her bangs aside that had fallen across her nose. Jack had seen her want things before, and wanting had never been their issue. Her propensity for self-denial, and his propensity to give her what she wanted, or at least what she said she wanted, had always been the problem. "Look, all I'm saying is, maybe tonight when we don't know where Daniel is again and your dad... maybe it looks a certain way tonight, but sometimes things can look different in the light of day. You didn't invite me over tonight for this. I remember that, even if you don't. You wanted a friend tonight, right?"

"No, I wanted you."

"Sam, let me just be your friend tonight," he offered pulling her in closer again. He couldn't look in her disappointed eyes, knowing that he had done it to her. At least the panic was gone now.

"Just for tonight?"

"Just for tonight. And I make no promises about being friendly in the morning," he teased. There had been so many times that he had gotten just a taste of her or had thought that they were going to have their chance to be together only to have it cut short. But it felt different this time, and the possibilities she was offering were a little more terrifying than the disappointments he had grown used to. He knew he was holding back, and it wasn't her fault. But each time she had pulled away, it had made the open wound a little deeper. Each time he tried to let her go again, he had come closer to not bouncing back.

"Listen, Carter, I can be your friend that holds you while you fall asleep, but I feel like I should warn you. I can be a little..."

"I already know about the snoring."

"No, not... hey, I don't snore. No, I was going to say I can be a little handsy."

"Well, I sort of like your hands so, I think I'll be able to endure it."

"I think my hands sort of like you," he answered with a squeeze to her waist. "I'm betting you're a cuddler. At least, without the sleeping bags and rifles between us."

"Guess you'll just have to find out."

Today was going to be a good day. Jack had a lot of Samantha and Sam dreams. He even had a few Carter dreams, but this one was easily in his top five. This one was a Sam dream. She was lying nestled into his side with her knee thrown over his thigh and her cute little ass under his hand. Sometimes they would wake up together and talk about the coming day. Sometimes he would wake before her and draw sleepy, lazy kisses out of her. Sometimes she woke before him and would wake him with her lips and tongue tasting his neck. He couldn't choose a favorite variation. He loved them all.

"Morning," she grumbled into his chest.

"Mmmmorning," he answered. Jack's eyes shot open, first one, then the other, when he heard his own voice aloud, and he looked down to find soft blonde hair in his face. Reaching his unoccupied hand upward for confirmation, his thumb found Sam's smile half exposed, and half resting against his skin. If that wasn't the damndest thing... Jack thought that the smile spreading across his face might be a little effusive, but with Sam's ass actually under his hand and her hair tickling his chin and her smile against his skin, he'd be willing to tell anyone who mentioned it to take a flying leap. Not a dream, and apparently his warning about getting handsy had been warranted. He had slipped under the waist of her pants last night in their sleep. Jack traced the edge of her underwear with a long middle finger where it clung to her cheek up to her hip and back down again, before filling his hand with her flesh and giving it a satisfying squeeze.

"Hmmm," Sam sighed as she left a kiss on his neck. She felt a sting when Jack snapped the waist of her panties and popped her head up to shoot him a glare. "Seriously?" she grumbled, annoyed by his grin. "How old are you?"

"A lady never tells," he answered with serious eyes. Apparently, he was always going to be impossible. Although, with his hand sliding back down her ass to soothe the sting he had left behind, Sam found it hard to maintain her annoyance and also eye contact. He had warned her that he would be handsy, and now that she had woken with his hand holding her close to him, she would have been disappointed with any other outcome. "You like lace?" he asked as his fingers continued to stroke her creases and curves while he still held her eyes with his. It felt so real—so normal, and that surprised her. Some of the shock had worn off since last night.

"Yeah. You?" she asked.

"Mmm, big fan. Very sexy," he declared as he slipped a few exploratory fingers under her waist band, but only just.

"Good to know."

"It doesn't look so good on me, but you, you can pull it off."

"You haven't even seen it yet," she argued.

"Don't need to. Anytime you want, you can pull it off. Just toss it in the corner. 'The journey of a thousand miles...' and all that," she giggled, dropping her face to his neck, and his smile grew. "Wait. Yet?"

"Yet," she confirmed, and he approved with another little squeeze.

"Hey. You are, in fact, a cuddler," Jack observed.

"Or you're just too big for this bed, and I had no choice."

"It is snug, isn't it? We might have to run the experiment again in a different setting."

"Introduce some new variables?" she asked propping her chin on his chest to discuss the scientific method.

"Doctor, as long as there are two constants," Jack began gesturing between them, "I'm okay with all of the variables." Sam wasn't trying to read anything into his words. It had resulted in too many misunderstandings, but it seemed like these ones had been spoken just for her, and in her native language. It was the words she had needed from Pete, but never heard. Pete wasn't okay with just two constants. He had wanted more assurances, more plans, more certainty. Jack had never asked her for that. At least, not yet.

"The sun's up," he observed, stroking her hair with his free hand. "What are you thinking now?"

"I'm thinking that I woke up on top of my CO," she grinned up at him.

"And?"

"And I like it," she confirmed, dropping a kiss onto his chin. "At the risk of seeming demanding, are you free tonight?"

"I have a keen interest in hearing all of your demands. And yes, I'm free. Also cheap, if you're interested," he offered with a suggestive brow.

"Mmm, very," she answered with a nip to his exposed collarbone. "I would invite you over, but covert might be easier without the street parking."

"Crap. Yeah, I should go," he answered pulling his arm from under her and turning to sit up on the edge of the bed. The loss of his body, his warmth, his being next to her was disorienting. She could only see his back, but the fingers through his hair and the sigh told her that he had let himself forget who they were and why this was difficult. Sam wanted to forget too, but reality wasn't going anywhere. Pushing herself up she reached for him. She dropped a kiss on his shoulder and propped her chin there.

"Just for now, okay?" Sam knew she sounded uneasy, and maybe a little bit like she was hoping he wouldn't get tired of this. But then he was holding her with a look only centimeters away, and a strong hand in her hair.

"As long as it takes, Carter." His kiss was brief and not exactly at a great angle, but it was enough for now. Sam watched him from the bed as he dressed in yesterday's wrinkled clothes and turned back to her. "Rain check on breakfast?"

"Or breakfast on base?" she suggested hopefully. He shot her a look that was more content than resigned, and her heart settled, but only for a moment. His next words had her on edge for a different reason.

"It's a date."