AN: Last one during Threads

"Carter? That you?" Jack asked as he stepped through his unlocked front door with his hand on his sidearm. He hadn't seen her car when he pulled in, and he hadn't heard from her since he sent her home. He had assumed she was coming over later this evening.

"In here," she called out from the kitchen.

Jack walked down his hall and found something so other worldly that he was left speechless, and in his line of work, that was saying something. Sam was in her bare feet in his kitchen surrounded by bowls and food, and what in the world was she making? He loved seeing her in her off hours in her tight little jeans and today's pair was a doozy. They didn't quite reach up to her belly button. He knew this because he could see it peeking out under the pale pink top she wore that seemed to be wrapped around her and holding on for dear life. Her breasts were framed in pink, and he could see just a hint of a darker color underneath, and it looked like it might be the promised lace. Meeting her eyes finally, he saw that she looked unsure of something.

"Hi. You're here," he observed. She dropped her eyes and fidgeted with some utensil on the counter.

"I hope that's okay. I know we said tonight, but if you need some time to unwind that's fine. I could always just pop out for a while until—"

"Sam," Jack interrupted her and pulled her tightly to him. For a long minute he nestled his face into the crook of her neck and filled his lungs with her scent, letting her soak into him. He would never say it to her, but a part of him had wondered, even after she had asked to see him tonight and even after their flirtations at the base today, if she would realize that this was all too much work. Would she remember that she could do better? Would she re-evaluate the career implications? He wouldn't blame her for any of it. He knew she was strong enough to handle it all, but was he really worth the trouble?

Sam had no complaints about her current situation, but as the embrace stretched on, she was beginning to wonder if something was wrong. She pulled back slowly with a questioning look, keeping her hands on him. He had an odd look in his eye—one she couldn't recall seeing before, but that was no surprise. She knew that there would be gaps because of the distance they had kept from each other for so long. That didn't matter. He was letting her see him now. Almost.

"Stay," he rasped, before leaning down to kiss her softly.

She found she had to reach up further than she would have expected to kiss him again. An exploratory foot revealed he was still in his boots. The extra two inches made her feel small for a change, so she took some extra time to enjoy this kiss with her neck craned back and needing to use his shoulders for leverage. She smiled into their kiss when she felt his hand slide into the back pocket of her jeans and squeeze.

"Something funny?" he asked against her lips. She giggled lightly so he pulled away. "Carter?"

"It's not really funny, I just... uh, I never thought you'd be an ass guy."

"An ass guy?" He asked her with his brow as well as his words.

"You know, a guy who's into... asses."

"And what kind of guy did you think I would be?" Jack followed her meaningful glance down to her chest. "Oh yeah, I'm definitely that kind of guy. And I'm in favor of this whole on display situation you've got going on here," he answered with a visual survey of her chest that was much more exposed than he was used to seeing, "but really..." he kissed her lightly, "I think I'm just a Carter kinda guy."

Jack heard a heavy breath escape her and took advantage of the opportunity to kiss her again. She tilted her head a little, inviting him to taste more deeply. If this kiss was his reward for eight years of restraint, he'd say it was worth it. The way her fingers danced along the edges of his hairline at the base of his neck, and the way she pulled him closer with her other hand on his face were payment enough. Her kiss was responsive and confident, and as much as he enjoyed getting to know her this way, he was still able to remind himself that she wasn't sure. Unlike her kiss, she was still undecided. Regrettably, he slowed, working the urgency down to a simmer before letting her go. With one last squeeze of her hip, he released her and turned to the fridge to grab a drink.

"How was your day off?" he asked.

"It was fine. Quiet. Boring. You know me," she answered.

"Yes. Yes, I do."

"After Dakara, my dad was saying he'd been dying for a good piece of lasagna. A poor choice of words, in hindsight, but I couldn't stop thinking about it, so I figured I'd make some. I hope this is okay. You did say that I didn't have to go home," she tacked on. Jack wasn't sure if she was asking about the food or the location or everything else.

"Lasagna is great. I'm glad you're here. I want you here," he assured. "To be frank, I want you anywhere," he added with a smirk. Sam blushed and ducked her head in a move that reminded him of the Captain Carter she'd been when he first met her—little more than a girl it seemed, compared to the woman she was now.

"What about you? How's the exciting life of a modern Brigadier General?" she probed.

"See, I don't know if you really want to know about my day, or if you're just trying to weasel your way back to work early," Jack pondered aloud.

"So, you're not going to tell me?" she pressed.

"Not much to tell really. I got a papercut," he added holding up his index finger. Sam reached for his upraised hand and pressed a light kiss to his finger.

"You're so brave. The debt this country owes you for this injury will never be repaid," she added with a heavy dose of sarcasm.

"Yes, well, I can think of some ways that you as a representative of this country, might get close to repayment," he teased.

"I wouldn't want to shirk my patriotic duty, Sir," she answered suggestively with darkened eyes running down his torso and below his belt. She was calling his bluff.

"Okay, eww. Please stop," he answered with a grimace and pulled his hand out of her grasp.

"You started it," she justified with a grin.

"But you're supposed to be the sensible one. I'm supposed to make the adolescent jokes."

"I don't want to be sensible today," she argued.

"Fine, but if you're going to eyeball me, don't do it in that context. I think we both know those 'Thank me for my service' types are out there, but I repeat... eww."

"But I can still eyeball you?" she asked coming across as positively giddy.

"Sure, ya can. If it's you, and not Tatiana the Tag Chaser. You can eyeball, ogle, leer if you want to. I don't mind."

"This is nuts. You're saying that if I want to, I can just look at you. Any way I want?" Somehow, Sam thought that saying it out loud might make it seem more real.

"A novel thought, I know, but when two people are talking," he answered, inserting air quotes, "they do generally also look at each other."

"You were right again," she said with a smile and a sense of wonder. "It does feel different when the sun is up. Good different."

"Yeah?"

"Oh yeah. It's working for me," she affirmed.

"Everything about you works for me, Samantha." Jack was setting her on fire with the look he was giving her as he walked her back up against the cabinets and entrapped her with his arms on either side. Sam gripped the counter behind her with both hands to physically restrain herself from reaching out for him.

As he searched her eyes with his, she wondered. Why do we wait until people are dying to tell them how we really feel? She didn't want to wait anymore. He deserved to know that he was important, that he was one of the reasons it had never felt right with Pete, that she loved him. Maybe she didn't have all the details worked out yet of what they needed to do to actually be together. Maybe she wasn't sure yet that being together was what he wanted, but she couldn't imagine a life where she would want to take this back. Even if he was only interested in something casual, she would still want him to know. She had never really thought of him as a casual sort of guy, but that's what he'd been with Kerry, wasn't it? Her racing thoughts must have shown on her face.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

"Nothing, that's the problem," she answered, dropping her forehead onto his chest for a breath or two.

"Why is that a problem?"

"I know you're right. We shouldn't rush this. It's just..." Sam inwardly berated herself for not being able to say the words. Jack leaned back on the counter next to her, setting his hand next to hers, and looping his pinky over hers.

"Just what?" he asked softly, encouraging her to continue.

"Everything feels so right... so perfect," she finished quietly, looking back up into his eyes that were soft now instead of blazing. His tongue reached out of his slightly agape mouth to wet the corner of his mouth.

"Are you done here? Can I help?" he asked, gesturing toward the littered kitchen and changing the subject with what appeared to be abruptness.

"I just need to put this in the oven, and then I can do the dishes," Sam answered.

"Oven. No dishes. I need to show you something." Surprising even herself Sam complied and turned back to him. "Come on. Bedroom." Her eyes widened at this, but she followed him down the hall anyway.

"Tatiana was probably a Russian spy, you know? It's for the best that you weren't into her."

"Oh, I know," he confirmed before stopping at his door. "I didn't come home before I went to the base this morning. Meaning that I haven't had a chance to prepare for a guest." It's not like Jack wanted to turn her off, but he also didn't want her to be lost in some faux whitewashed version of reality while she was still making up her mind about them. He stood back and watched her face as he opened the door and let her enter the bedroom first. He entered behind her and stopped in his tracks.

"Carter, did you clean my room!?"

"No, I tidied. One load of laundry," she answered defensively, and then with a tinge of mischief she added, "you too have very sexy panties."

"This is supposed to be where I show you how much of a pig I am to burst your overly idealized bubble of what life with me is like. The bucket of ice water to your raging libido, if you will." Jack gave himself a mental high five for making sure that Kerry hadn't left anything behind at his place the night that she had stayed.

"Raging libido?" she laughed.

"Not raging?" he asked.

"Not at the moment, no."

"Ughh-ah!" he growled with outstretched flexing hands.

"Everything okay, Sir?"

"No. It's not okay. I am trying to be the voice of reason, and I think you know that's not my thing."

"I think we've spent a lot of years being reasonable," she argued. "Maybe we just met our quota."

"Come on. I can't be in here with you," he said, waving her back out the door. He glanced back at the bedroom and smirked at the freshly made bed, the empty floor that just last night was adorned with dirty clothes and the nightstand that had some dishes on it when he'd last seen it. He loved her. Not for the cleaning, but just because.

"I sort of feel like a traitor. Sitting here, eating Jacob's favorite meal. With his favorite daughter. Having impure thoughts about her," Jack mused aloud as he finished his last bite of lasagna. It's not that he wanted Carter to be some barefoot in his kitchen homemaker, but this was pretty damn good. He was getting a glimpse of the at home, domestic Carter the past couple of days, and he was digging it. She'd be out there shooting at aliens next week, and that was pretty damn good too. Carter was never going to be a simple woman, and he liked that just fine.

"Except for the impure thoughts, I don't think he'd mind," Sam assured him from across the dining room table. "Actually, now that I think of it, he probably wouldn't mind the impure thoughts either." Jack gave her an uncomfortable little grimace at the thought of Jacob having any insight into his private thoughts about Carter. "He liked you," she explained with a shrug.

"No kidding," Jack answered, thinking back to his conversation with Jacob with fondness for the old man.

"Yeah. I don't think he liked Pete. He didn't wanna say it, but he did say, 'That's quite the giggle your young man has,' in this very dad-like way. I'm not sure why, but it seemed like an insult."

"A giggler, eh?" Jack happened to know Jacob didn't care for men who giggled, but he also didn't really want to talk about Pete. "So, Carter, you tidied, you made dinner, you washed my underwear—weird, by the way. I don't want you to think that I mind, but exactly how long have you been here?"

"It's not like I executed a surgical strike on your underwear. There were other things in the laundry. I was bored. And..." she dropped her eyes, and he saw something he hadn't seen in her since last night. She was feeling shy, embarrassed even. "I felt like being here. Closer."

"To what?" he asked.

"I think you mean 'to whom?'" she answered, but he only raised an eyebrow and waited. "You're really going to make me say it?"

"Nobody can make you do or say anything, Carter," he assessed.

"I feel closer to you here," she admitted and gave him her gaze. He was grinning, but not in that smug way she knew so well. He just looked happy. She had done that to him, she thought. He was happy because of her.

"So, you sorta... you like me," he teased.

"Yeah, I do," she answered more easily, than he would have thought she would, and if that didn't beat all.

"Spending the night?" he asked as he pushed his plate away and downed the last of his beer.

"Only if you want me to," she answered tentatively, and was met with a confused tilt of his head.

"I do."

"I didn't want to presume," she excused. She had made a lot of assumptions about him over the years and it hadn't worked out very well.

"You bring clothes?" he continued.

"Yeah, in the guest room," she answered.

"The guest room?" he asked in disgust.

"I didn't want to presume," she excused again with a tiny shrug. Jack leaned across the corner of the table toward her and dropped an intentional kiss, full of promise, but not much else on her cheek.

"Start presuming," he demanded low in her ear. "Go get changed and meet me in the living room."

"Yes, Sir."

"Oh, and I don't want to presume, but move your stuff to my room. If you want to, that is."

"Start presuming," she answered with a blush before turning to follow his orders.

"Yes, Ma'am."

Jack was only slightly ashamed to admit to himself that even when Sam had been with that other guy, he hadn't stopped fantasizing about her—about them and the way they were supposed to be with each other. And with Sam draped sideways across him on the couch and his arms around her, he was living one of the best ones. With her hip resting against his thigh and her knees tucked tightly up against his side, Sam teased restless fingers up and down his bicep, stopping only occasionally to squeeze. Her cheek rested on his opposite shoulder where it belonged.

The soft blonde head against his jaw was at peace. She was still, at rest. The times he had been lucky enough to hold her in the past had been riddled with hurt or despair or were too brief to enjoy the feeling of stillness with her. Finally, Jack was not doing anything with her. He was being with her. And by some miracle, she was just being with him. Of course, it was just a matter of time before her busy brain would be off and running again, but if he could have some of these moments too, he wouldn't mind.

"Next time I see Jacob, I'll have to remember to thank him for the dinner suggestion," Jack mused as he ran his fingers down her exposed leg from her hip to her knee and back again. He said a silent prayer of thanks for blue cotton shorts, long legs, and thin white tank tops. Before she had laid herself down across his lap, he had gotten a tempting glance at two little pink treasures beneath her shirt that had rendered him mute for close to an entire minute, but he liked to think that he had been at least somewhat dignified and subtle about it.

"Anything else you should thank him for?" she asked.

"Spawning the hottest girl I know?" he teased with a squeeze to her upper thigh. It was a fine line he was walking, and he knew it. Clearly, she was interested physically. Her pajama choice told him that she wanted him to notice her, and he had. Her seating choice told him that she wanted him to touch her, and he was. But she wasn't sure. There was a chance that nights spent like this together would help her make up her mind. However, there was also a chance that this is all she would be interested in pursuing, he reminded himself. The changes they would have to make for anything more would cost her—both of them really, but he wasn't really worried about himself.

"I don't know if I should be flattered or annoyed," she answered him.

"You'll get used to the feeling," he hoped.

"Can't wait," she replied in resignation. Jack was under no illusion that he was good at this or that he was good enough for her, but trying to be someone else probably wasn't going to make it any better. She knew him better than anyone. There was no point in trying to change the awkward compliments that masqueraded as jokes.

"How ya doin' today?" Jack suppressed his wonderings to give her what he knew she would need.

"Good. Better, I think," she answered carefully. "Thank you for asking. For being here."

"For cryin' out loud, Carter, would you stop saying that?" He huffed at her. "Where else would I be?"

"With her." Sam cursed her own mouth for letting the truth slip out and for ruining this perfect moment when she was finally in his arms and only a breath away. His hand that had been tickling up and down her leg froze instantly, and she turned her attention up to him.

"Sam..." Jack began with a grimace.

"Don't. Please, you don't have to explain," she excused dropping her eyes and her hand to his chest, "I never wanted you to be unhappy or alone. I just got used to thinking that you were always going to be here in the same way, and then when I saw her, I realized it was changing. That someone else would matter to you more than..." Sam found his eyes studying her again for just a moment before finishing, "just more."

"That's not going to change. Even if she or someone else were around, even if you were with him or someone else with the two and a half kids and the dog, I'll always be there for you." He had said it so often the past few days that she was almost letting herself believe it.

"You were going to be Uncle Jack?" she asked, thinking morbidly of how painful it would have been to watch Jack stop by on a Saturday afternoon to play with the kids she would have had with Pete or someone else, while she was wishing all the time that they could have been Jack's kids. Would he have been thinking the same thing behind his Uncle Jack smile?

"If I have to." Sam didn't miss that the way he said this could apply to the future. It was moments like this that made her think that although he was here, and he was holding her that maybe his disinterestedness wasn't a mask. Maybe he didn't feel what she felt, she mused with a frown, and dropped her eyes again. She knew he cared, and he wouldn't want to hurt her. But when you love someone, they don't really have to try to hurt you, do they?

"Is that what you want? To be Uncle Jack?" She had forced herself to look him in the eye and ask, giving him a chance to back out of whatever this was.

"You know it's not, Sam," he answered low, daring her to question him. For once, she took his dare.

"Do I?" she asked and watched a flicker of annoyance cross his features.

"You damn well should know," he answered letting that annoyance into his voice. Jack's fingers were pressing into her thigh now in a firm grip.

"I don't know, Jack. You won't tell me," Sam argued with a little annoyance of her own. "What do you actually want?"

"It doesn't matter, Carter," he answered raising his voice, "What I want has never mattered." Sam felt her eyes growing hot and damp, as she swallowed down his accusation. Sam had never thought that Jack would be one to dig up the past and blame her for what could have been between them all those years ago.

"That's not fair," she answered shakily. "It's not like everything went exactly how I wanted it to back then either." Plenty of times, Sam had wished that things could have been different.

"What? What are you talking about?"

"You think I didn't want to just throw the rules out the window and give in to what I felt for you?" Sam hated that she had to raise her voice to get the words out through the threatening tears. "You think I didn't care? I didn't get my way either, Jack. I wasn't happy either."

"Whoah, Sam, that's not what I meant," Jack had dropped his voice now, no longer filled with annoyance.

"Well, what then?" Sam asked, flicking an uninvited tear from one eye.

"Sam, all I meant was I don't want you to think about what I want while you're figuring this out. I want you to know for yourself." Jack knew he wasn't giving her what she needed when she tucked her face against him, hiding her eyes. But he also knew she was skittish. She wasn't ready to hear what he wanted. The short answer was just everything. But he didn't want any of it if she didn't want it too, and he didn't want her to give into anything because he wanted it. She was always making her choices for other people, and he didn't want that for her now—not for him. She deserved to have what she wanted in life. And if he wasn't it, well, that was probably for the best.

"For the record," he spoke low into her downturned head, "I never thought you were happy about it. Never thought you didn't care." Maybe that wasn't completely true. Sure, he had thought that she had moved on, but he had always known that she cared about him. It was evident enough in her discomfort when that other guy started coming around.

"Good. Because I wasn't happy," she answered with a tiny thump of her fingers against his chest. "And I did care."

"Back at ya," he answered, secretly smiling to himself at her confirmation.

"So, you kind of... you like me too?" she asked haltingly.

"You had doubts?"

"Yes," she answered shyly. He had tried to let her go a few times over the years, but he hadn't been able to make it stick. Now it seemed like she had bought the act. It seemed like Jacob was right.

"If this is a revelation to you today, what, exactly, did you think was happening last night? And this morning?"

"I don't know. I guess I thought you wanted me, but I didn't know if you wanted... me," Jack was finally getting to see more of Sam and less of Carter. It was Carter that had first caught his eye, and he would always want her. But Sam was different. Sam needed something else from him—something more than Carter ever had. "Or maybe," she continued, "I just thought that you were trying to be a good friend." The needle skipped out of its groove, and the song playing through Jack's mind scratched to a halt. Friend?

"Yes, I kiss all of my friends that way. Teal'c isn't a fan, but Daniel really gets into it."

"Funny, that's not what Daniel told me." Jack narrowed his eyes at her.

"You know, Carter, I'm beginning to think that we, you and I, might be bad at this," Jack suggested gesturing between them.

"Signs point to yes," she affirmed with a grin. Sam could breathe again. She had never liked conflict in relationships, and she had never let herself think long enough about what it would be like to be with Jack to even consider what their brand of conflict would be. With relief in her fingers, she let herself touch him again, reclaiming some of their earlier ease and affection before she had misunderstood him. Her grin grew, and she nuzzled into his neck with a kiss when she felt his hands grow relaxed on her body again. His touch was light and sweeping, and he was subtly pulling her closer.

"So... did you wanna make out?" he asked. Her giggle was instant at the timing of his suggestion, and she dropped another kiss on his neck.

"Was that a 'yes' or...?" he persisted. Sam pulled back to settle herself more directly on his lap, nestling his hips between her legs now.

"Yeah, okay. Let's make out," she answered before immobilizing him with a kiss that she owned. Sure, they had kissed before, but this one—this one reminded him of Samantha who pinned him against the lockers and told him that she wanted him. Too soon, she pulled away. "But you had better bring it."

"Funny. You've said that to me before," he remembered.

"No, I haven't," she corrected. And now Jack remembered when she had said it—in the time loop—and he smiled.

"Huh, my mistake. As you were."