AN: During Moebius

This. This was exactly what Sam had imagined it would be like to wake up with Jack. Yesterday when she had woken up on top of him, she was a little confused at first. She had watched him sleep for years curled up on his side and leaning forward a bit onto his chest, and she thought he had always looked like he needed something or someone to hold onto and support him. She was more than willing to volunteer.

Sam was lying on her back, and Jack's head was pillowed on her chest. His slow, even breaths were warming and then cooling her skin. Taking advantage of his sleep, she lifted her hand, sinking her fingers into his hair. She had always had the urge to be the reason for his messy hair, and the satisfaction she felt now was worth the wait. For long minutes he slept while she toyed with him, tracing his hairline, massaging his scalp, dragging her nails along his neck. Finally, he turned his face into her skin, scratching his stubble across her skin to leave a kiss on her.

Sam smiled at Jack's lazy hand skating up her ribs. He found one breast through her tank top and gave a gentle massage, but he reined himself in, dropping a soft kiss on her neck and settling his cheek back against her skin in time to feel her sigh escape her with a little moan.

Some people liked to call Jack smug. He liked to think that he was just confident in his strengths. Not that they were many, but so far, he seemed to be doing okay at the making Carter feel good thing. Even if he were smug, wasn't that a good cause for it?

Sam knew that he cared about her. No, more than that. She knew that he loved her. You don't offer to be the kindly Uncle to someone's kids if you want to sleep with them. Not unless you love them, that is. But there were a lot of different kinds of love. Did he want a life with her? Was that something he would ever want again? She had always thought the question was too personal before now, so she had shied away from asking directly, but now she wished she had been bolder. Growing irritated with herself, she refocused her attention on him and the present.

Sliding one hand under her shoulders and another under her hip, Jack rolled and settled her on top of him.

"Hi," he greeted her.

"Hi yourself," she answered, folding her arms across his chest and propping her chin atop them.

"What are you going to do on your day off?" he asked.

"I've been told I could knit. Maybe fly a kite," she answered sleepily.

"Merely suggestions. You could just relax," he suggested rubbing her shoulder.

"Wish you didn't have to go in today," she confessed. "You're sure I can't come in? I wouldn't even do any work."

"Carter, we both know that's not true."

"I would try."

"You can stay here today if you want," he offered remembering how she had wanted to be at his house yesterday when he sent her home. "Edgar told me last week that he missed you. I think he could use some quality time with his favorite girl."

"Edgar?"

"The spider plant."

"Ah yes, Edgar. My old friend."

"Sam," he began and waited for her eyes to find his. He wanted to look at her when he said this. It wasn't much, but he had taken the easy way out when it came to saying the important things too many times. She deserved more from him. "I really like waking up with you." Sam smiled, scooching herself down his body to press gently against him.

"I can tell," she teased.

"Well that too, but... that's not what I meant," he pinned her with what he hoped was a sincere look. He heard her last night when she said she didn't know that he wanted her, and he needed to be sure that she understood that he wanted more. He wanted a life with her.

"I know," she assured him looking slightly chastened.

"Do you?" he asked, tracing his thumb across her cheek.

"It's a lot to believe after all these years," she answered honestly finally. "A big change to get used to. But I'm not a quitter."

"No, you're not," he answered with half a smile on his lips, and his fingers slipping into her hair with a gentle tug. And it was time for a little more practice, he decided. "Just one of the many things I love about you."

"Jack, there's something..." Sam began, but the words died on her lips. Determined, she began again. "There's something I wanted to tell you. I don't want to go back on Monday and go through the gate thinking that you didn't know. If something happens out there—"

"Later, Sam," he stopped her. Jack knew he was being selfish. If she wanted to say something, he should let her, but he couldn't. There were just some things he didn't think he could do. Hearing Sam tell him that she loved him, but not being able to keep her was one of them. He wanted her to be sure first of what she wanted. But if he tried, and he did, he could convince himself that a premature confession would force her into a decision for which she wasn't ready. It was for her own good, really.

"Okay, later," she answered with none of the hurt he had expected.

"And in the meantime, you're going to enjoy your day off."

"Enjoy?"

"That's an order."

Sam wasn't happy about being forced to take a couple of days off, but she understood it. It was going to take time to get through the feelings she had about losing her dad, and a few days was a good place to start. It would be easier if she could still work, so it was a great opportunity to work on a paper she had been meaning to write for the Academy.

Sitting down at her desk with a stack of references to her left, she hammered out her outline. She stopped about halfway through to glance at her phone to her right. Nothing yet. Not that there should be. Jack was working. No doubt he was in the middle of something or just trying to get caught up on the day to day after the last couple of weeks of chaos. Sam was proud of him—not that their successes hadn't been a whole base effort, but he was at the helm of one of the greatest military achievements that the world would never know. What a weird life. In a passing thought, she wondered what his friends outside of the base thought of him.

Turning back to the page, she tapped indecisively at an introduction, but it just wasn't writing itself. Pulling out her reference three down in the stack she moved on to her first point. Buzz, buzz. Her phone rattled across her desk, and she hurriedly flipped it open. The dentist. Sam sent it to voicemail and went back to her screen, but after three more attempts, she flipped her laptop shut and made herself a snack. Sitting down in the living room and turning on the TV, she settled into the couch when she saw Dorothy reaching behind the Scarecrow's frame to release him onto the Yellow Brick Road.

It was awfully familiar, and familiar was kind of nice right now when she was still feeling sad about her dad. Sam wished Jack were here to watch one of his favorites with her. The Scarecrow always kind of reminded her of Jack and the way he pretended to be dim even though when trouble came, he was the one who responded and got them through it all. He was getting away with the clueless act less and less these days.

Sam finished her snack and nestled down onto her couch to finish the movie. Apparently, this is what one was supposed to do with one's time off. It was probably time that she gave it a try. Dozing off and on, the familiar sights and sounds greeted her each time she woke. "...if I ever go looking for my heart's desire again, I won't go looking any further than my own backyard..." she heard before her eyes closed again. "No, she had to find it out for herself..." Then finally, "I think I'll miss you most of all," she heard Dorothy tell the Scarecrow as her eyes opened again. In the past, it had always struck her how unkind it seemed of Dorothy to say it right in front of the Tin Man and the Cowardly Lion, but this time it just seemed true. She would miss the Scarecrow most of all, so why not say it? "There's no place like home..."

Sam thought of her own Scarecrow, and what it would be like if she had to leave him. She would miss Jack most of all. He was her home in some ways. They had lived a lot of life together on that base, in those alien woods, in the halls of those ships. Almost a quarter of her life had been lived by his side, and half of her adult life. How much of that time had she been in love with him, she wondered easily. In love? Yeah, it was a thing. But it wasn't the thing she had always thought people meant by it. The realization came to her quietly, as if it was something she had always known, but could only accept now.

She was in love with Jack not because of who he was, or what he offered, or what he looked like. All of those things were great, but she had fallen in love with him years ago for another reason. He challenged her to be more and to do more, not because he was dissatisfied with who she was, but because he knew she was meant to be more. Sam loved who she got to be when she was with him. He was the only one who had ever let her be all of herself. She didn't have to hide from him. It was comfortable. It was real. It was authentic. The only thing she had ever hidden from him was how she felt about him, and nothing seemed stupider than that in this moment.

Sam reached for her phone again, flipping it open. Still nothing. This was ridiculous. She wasn't needy. She popped her phone shut a little more harshly than was strictly necessary and closed her eyes on a sigh. They'd only really been talking for a few days, but the urge to be near him was strong. With a few exceptions, she had always felt comfortable around him, but this pull to be in his orbit all the time was new to her. Sam wondered fleetingly if she could convince him to ride with her. After all, he still had that jacket from 1969 in his closet. Jack was where she wanted to be whether that was on base, or watching the Wizard of Oz, riding too fast through the mountains, or fishing.

Fishing. Jack had mentioned he was thinking of taking a vacation again to do some "living." He hadn't invited her, but he had told her years ago that it was a standing invitation. Surely, he wouldn't take it back now that they were talking. She still didn't think she'd really enjoy fishing, but did it even matter if he was there? She just wanted to be with him, breathe the same air with him, and sit in silence with him. Of course, he'd break the silence with inappropriate or ill-timed jokes. Maybe both, but she wanted that too. His voice had somehow become the most important part of the soundtrack that had been playing for the last eight years.

This realization didn't come as quietly. It didn't come quietly at all. This realization came to her like a jab to the gut with dramatic thwumpy sound effects. Jack had never really been inviting her to go fishing. He was inviting her to be with him, the way that she had just realized she wanted him to be with her. He was inviting her to be a part of his life—his real life, outside the base. And every time, she had told him no. There were various reasons for her declination, and they had all seemed reasonable at the time. Suddenly, those declined invitations felt a lot more like rejections, and she wondered if he had seen it that way too. Sam tucked her arms around her middle and crinkled her brow as she tried to remember each time.

Sam remembered the surprise she had felt the first time, and how Colonel O'Neill had stood there with his fresh haircut and told her, "No sweat." She remembered after he had just returned from his disastrous test flight of the X-301, and he had asked her again to go fishing with him. But she had felt too much during that test flight that had nearly lost her both him and Teal'c. She had wanted to decompress with a few projects. She had needed to feel less, not more. It occurred to her now that he had probably been feeling a lot after that test flight too, but he had gone without her. Then, when Jonas had activated the device that caused half of Colorado Springs to see other dimensional bugs, Jack had asked her again. And again, she had declined, even questioning the sincerity of his invitation. He had seemed a little less hopeful each time, and now she understood why.

It was never about the fishing. He had been offering himself. It was never about what they were doing or where they were doing it. He had wanted to be with her. He had wanted to do some "living" with her. It was an invitation for more. And it was a standing invitation, wasn't it? Sam certainly hoped so, because at this current moment, she couldn't think of anything she'd rather do more than go fishing with Jack O'Neill. Buzz, buzz. Buzz, buzz. It was the base. Quickly she flipped open her phone to answer.

"Colonel Carter," she answered, hopeful that it would be Jack.

"Hey, it's me," Jack's voice rumbled in her ear.

"Hi," she smiled with the realization of her decision still fresh in her mind as she flipped to lie on her back.

"Listen, it looks like I'll be here late tonight," he informed with an exasperated sigh.

"Oh." She hadn't suppressed the disappointment in her voice quickly enough to hide it from him.

"Sorry," he added in response.

"No, no. I understand. Maybe no one understands better than I do."

"Right? That's what I thought."

"Do you need me to come in?" she offered hopefully. She would have offered anyway, but if he said yes, she would still get to see him tonight.

"No. Your particular brand of genius isn't required for this one," he excused to her dismay.

"Just your brand of genius?"

"Well, that's a little rich, but yes. Lunch tomorrow? I was thinkin' we could go for a drive."

"A drive?"

"Yeah, you know. Maybe drive north about an hour. Or south. Your choice."

"South sounds good," she answered. Denver still held a Pete association for her, and she didn't want to think about that.

"South it is. Pick you up at thirteen hundred?"

"Jack, are you... is this a date? I mean, not a breakfast on base kind of date. A real, honest to God date?" Sam heard a little crackle as he cleared his throat. Her smile widened when she heard it. He only did that when he was nervous or uncomfortable.

"That depends on your answer."

"Yes. I'll be ready." She had a date. A real date with a man she already knew was the right one.

Sam wasn't ready. She wasn't ready to wait around all morning until Jack showed up for their date. She wasn't ready to wait for the right opening to talk to him about what she wanted. She was ready to tell him now. So, in defiance of her sense of politeness that told her he had worked late and he would need to sleep in, she had knocked on his door when the early birds were still singing.

"Carter, hi. What are you—" Jack asked as he opened his door to Sam who was looking a little more like Samantha with her shiny hair, floral skirt, and scandalously naked toes. She also had on one of those shirts that did that thing he liked with her boobs.

"I wanna go fishing," she blurted at him, still standing on his porch. Jack gave a confused blink.

"Now? Dressed like that?" he asked as he stepped aside and let her into the entryway and shut the door behind her. He hadn't been awake long enough for any of this to make sense yet. "Not that I don't like how you're—"

"No. I mean, yes, if you want to," she answered shaking off the distraction. "But I know what I want now, and I want to go fishing."

"You want to go... fishing?" he asked again in disbelief. Surely, she couldn't mean what he wanted her to mean.

"Yes, but only with you," she answered more softly now. "I want to go fishing with you." Then again, maybe she did. She was repeating herself enough that he knew she was a little frazzled at least.

"You sure?" he asked, as hope and dare he say it, acceptance began to spread through him. "It's a long drive, poor reception, no internet, bad company."

"You said it was a standing invitation..." she added with some uncertainty creeping into her voice and a shrug of her bare shoulder.

"It is," he answered trying to put her mind at ease.

"So, I want to go. Please," she asked, moving closer to him and resting her hands on his chest. With a flick of her eyes to his, she relaxed into his palms that seemed to instinctively settle onto her body—one on her waist and another around her back.

"Okay," he answered with a hint of a grin.

"Okay?" she asked again, picking up where his grin left off until it was a full-fledged smile.

"Yeah, let's go fishing," he confirmed with decisiveness. Sam knew there should be words coming out of her mouth, but in spite of all the words she knew, none of them seemed to fit this moment. Just when she was sure she was going to be overwhelmed, he was kissing her and pressing her against his front door. His body was a warm restraint against hers, pinning her down in one of the most rewarding ways she could imagine—had imagined, to be truthful. Except for her hands which were free, he was controlling her body. The satin of his hair between her fingers was a stark contrast to the course wood of the door under her other palm. Then Jack was kissing her neck like a starving man. It was hard to blame him when she was starving for him too.

"Oh God, that's good," she panted for him. She wanted him to know. They had spent long enough hiding things from everyone including each other. She didn't want to hide from him anymore. Her body was buzzing at his touch and melting under the warmth of his kiss. Her ears were ringing with pleasure, and her back was arching in an attempt to achieve the impossible—getting closer to him. Jack kissed his way up her neck, licked lightly behind her ear, and Sam was his. If she hadn't been before, she was now. His fingers found a grip in her hair as he pulled back just slightly.

"Just so we're clear," he whispered breathlessly, but so close to her ear that she could hear him perfectly, "when you say you want to go fishing..."

"I want to get a life," she answered. She prompted him with a light pressure from her hand to his face to look her in the eye. "With you," Sam saw a familiar twitch of his cheek as he assessed her words and continued. "I want to go fishing, and I want to do some living with you."

"And you're sure about this? It may not be easy, you know?" Jack stood centimeters away from her with his hair and clothes still a warm, rumpled mess from sleep and appraising eyes searching hers. Normally, it was a sight that would have been cause for more lengthy appreciation, but all she could see on his face right now was something like skepticism.

"I know it might be hard, but when you know, you know," she answered definitively.

"And when you don't?" The spark of an idea had come to her last night that it was possible that Jack might have some unanswered questions of his own about what she wanted and when. And now that she was looking for it, she could read between the lines. They hadn't really talked about Pete. She had only just broken off her engagement, and even though her heart had never really belonged to Pete, maybe Jack didn't know that.

"You say no, and you give him back the ring. Learned that one the hard way." Sam watched a little worry line appear between his eyes that weren't quite meeting hers.

"So that 'just for now' thing?" he asked quietly.

"For now, and for later too, if you're up for it. Jack," she waited for him to see her, "I don't want you to think I'm dropping a hint or anything, but... if you had asked me, I wouldn't have needed three weeks to answer you." Sam watched as a familiar and welcome smirk creeped onto his face. She liked him smug. It was his comfort zone, and she wanted to be the one who made him smug.

"So, you really, really, really like me," he teased, and she just smiled. Eventually he would let this go, but the less she reacted the sooner he would drop it. "And, for the record, if you wanted to drop a hint, it would need to be a lot more obvious than that. Less hint-like; more paint me a picture-like."

"So, consider this your preliminary hint. I'm open to the idea."

"Oh?" he asked, adding a little width to his smirk.

"Someday, yeah."

"So 'someday' is..."

"I'll paint you a picture."

"My kind of girl," he affirmed as he dropped a lingering kiss on her lips. Sam felt his hand setting a course for her breast and pushed him back slightly.

"Jack, not in front of Edgar," she chastised him with a meaningful glance toward the spider plant. "He gets jealous."

"Fine, let's go," he declared, pulling her behind him by the hand and heading down the hall.

"Sir?" Jack stopped, and she ran into the back of him.

"Excuse me?" he corrected her with a face that looked as if he'd swallowed something bitter.

"Sorry, Jack. Where are we going?"

"To the bedroom," he answered matter-of-factly. "You wanna go fishing? Let's go fishing."

"Right now?"

"No, let's pack."

"Ooh, I love packing."

"I thought you might," he answered, throwing open his closet door and leafing through a few hangers. Not finding what he was looking for, he opened the dresser drawer and rifled around in the piles with no success. "I can't find my shirt. Did you wash it when you raided my panty drawer?"

"Maybe, which one?" she asked from her place leaning against the door frame.

"My fishing shirt. It's my favorite."

"Well, shouldn't you be wearing my favorite shirt?" she asked teasingly as she approached him and ran a hand down the soft grey t-shirt that covered his chest.

"I didn't know you had a favorite shirt... of mine," he responded haltingly.

"I'm not only interested in your brains, you know."

"Really?" Jack sounded incredulous still, so Sam added a second hand to his chest and continued her perusal. "A favorite shirt?"

"A couple of them actually. There's this blue one that's just a little too big, and if you miss a couple of buttons, I could just," Sam took a steadying breath and a curl of her fingers that were settled firmly on his chest, "I could just slide my hand underneath and touch you." She finished with a deep breath and found him grinning down at her—just the happy grin. "You don't have a favorite shirt of mine?" she asked remembering where his eyes were.

"Yes," he answered decisively. "The one on the floor."

"I didn't leave my shirt on the floor," she argued instinctively.

"But could you? Now would be good." Sam had to laugh now, hoping that it would always be this much fun.

Jack reached down to soak up her laughter with a kiss. It wasn't her job, and he didn't need her to do it. But if Sam wanted to share some of this happiness with him, he would take her up on it.

"New rule," he announced as he broke away from her and dropped his duffel bag on the bed. "If you're going to do my laundry without my permission, you have to pack for me, and I only want to wear things that make you make that... that face you just made. But nothing fancy. It's all outdoors and dirty at the cabin."

"You have something fancy?"

"Funny. No blues," he ordered with a pointed finger at her.

"Deal, but it has to be this hat," Sam declared as she picked up his olive drab cap off its peg and hugged it to her chest in her hands looking a bit like a fool.

"That's my work hat. I usually have a strict 'no work' policy on vacation. Besides, it's held together with tape, not unlike my soul. I have other hats."

"But," Jack noted her disappointment, "I love you in this hat." Jack saw her eyes go wide before he heard what she said. Then he heard her. He didn't mean to smile at the panic on her face at what he could only assume had been an accidental admission. "I just meant..."

"I know what you meant," he answered quietly, removing the hat from her fingers and settling it backwards on her own head. Her bangs were pushed down into her eyelashes so he brushed them to the side for her. "I love you in this hat too." Sam gave him a wobbly smile, and plucked the hat from her head, setting it on the dresser. She ran a few fingers through her hair.

"Can't mess up my hair. I have a date, you know?" Jack saw her trying to lighten the moment, trying to excuse him from the conversation that had just surprised both of them. But he didn't want to take a pass this time.

"Huh. Whadda ya know..." he continued, glancing over at the hat and then back at her still slightly nervous face. With false confidence and raised brows, he continued, "still love you." Jack watched her anxiety clear, and her eyes widen as she looked him in the eye again. That dimple he liked so much on her cheek was teasing an appearance again, and that helped him breathe a little easier while he waited for her response.

"Yeah. It's not the hat," she conceded with an exhale, settling her hands back on his chest. "I just love you."

Jack looked at her in a way she hadn't seen before, and maybe someday she would know what it meant. But for now, she just breathed deeply and let him wrap her up in his arms and drop a brief kiss on her neck. Unwilling to be passive, she freed her hands to wrap him up too. Jack was stroking her hair and letting her rest her head in his hand, and she felt safe. It wasn't exactly news that Jack had a protective streak, but this was different. The way he held her now was personal. He held her protectively because she was his, not because protecting her was the right thing to do. If he needed it and if he would let her, she would do the same for him because he was hers too.

"Sam," he whispered with a kiss to her cheek, "I love you." There weren't any jokes. There weren't any metaphors. There wasn't anything left to read between the lines. Sam smiled pulling away to look at the man who had given her so much, maybe even to the point of personal deficit. She wanted to give him more too.

"Show me," she requested with a loaded glance toward the unmade bed.

"You don't want to finish packing?" he asked.

"Later. Show me," she asked again pulling him with her toward the bed and tossing the empty duffel bag on the floor.

"You don't have to tell me twice," he answered with a leer when he saw her reaching down to free herself from her sandals. "Did you need me to wear the hat while we... Or no?" Sam giggled, unable to restrain herself. So maybe there would always be some jokes. That was just Jack, and she liked that just fine.

"Maybe next time."

"No hat, and yet, she's already promising a next time," Jack preened as he dropped his t-shirt on the floor and saw her shake off the distraction to meet his eyes again.

"Jack?" she warned with a scolding brow.

"Samantha?" he challenged her with a smile.

"Why don't you shut up?" she suggested.

"Why don't you make me?"

And reader, she did.