A/N: It's been too long since I've posted a Campfire fic, and I apologize. My birthfather is dying, and it's been a rough couple of weeks. I'm sitting beside him now, watching him sleep. It's been difficult not to jump ahead in this series and write a Threads Campfire, simply because of the circumstances. Thanks to all who are still hanging in on this series, I do promise to try to get stories up more regularly. Another issue is the almost total lack of shippy material in Spirits and the next ep, Touchstone. Blood from a stone, I tell ya! Let's try for something a little lighter, shall we?

Set after Spirits.

Let Them Eat Cake

PXY-887
Tunané's Village

Sam Carter closed her eyes, leaned back against the smooth rock behind her and tilted her face toward the darkening sky. Around her swirled the drums and chants of Tunané's people, the almost mesmerizing song bending and twisting to join the smoke that rose from the small campfire around which she and her team were sitting. Most of her team, at least. Stretching her neck, Sam turned to pick out Daniel as he wove his way in and around the other dancers circling the larger fire, accompanied by the drummers and chanters off to one side. She smiled as the eager archaeologist haltingly performed the steps he was learning, to the obvious delight of the children and teens of the village. And to the frankly admiring looks of the younger women. Sam shook her head as Daniel was drawn even more deeper into the circle, pushing his glasses up his nose and smiling at the woman in whose hand his own was captured.

"Teal'c."

Sam turned to find Jack looking in the same direction in which she had just been, a look of mild consternation on his face.

"O'Neill."

The Colonel gestured toward Daniel with his chin. "Mind keeping an eye on him? I don't want to wake up in the morning to discover that he's married to one of the women here." He paused for a second. "Or one of the men."

Sam ducked her head to hide her grin, although in the deepening darkness the move was hardly necessary. Teal'c nodded briefly to each of them, his face impassive, then rose and strode silently away. As always, she was slightly surprised by the graceful way in which the large man moved. For someone who carried as much bulk as he did, the Jaffa possessed an economy of movement that Sam admired.

The Colonel moved slightly, his barely stifled groan reaching Sam's ear. "You okay, Sir? How's the arm?"

"It's good. Just stiff."

He'd only been cleared from the infirmary this morning and had been adamant about joining his team as they accepted Tunané's invitation. The opportunity to return to the planet to celebrate the mountain's gift of materials for the coming season meant that all hope of obtaining the raw trinium was not lost. O'Neill hoped to salvage some of the rare mineral, any of it the villagers were willing to part with.

Sam watched the Colonel stretch and flex his arm, then she nodded and rose, brushing the dust from her BDU trousers. "I'll be right back, Sir." She turned and ducked into the small tent they shared. Rummaging through her bag she pulled out two small packets of hot chocolate. She hesitated as her hand brushed against the other contents of her rubberized food sack. Glancing back over her shoulder to where the Colonel sat absently rubbing his arm, she smiled and grabbed the whole bag.

Returning to the fire, she settled into her familiar spot, just to O'Neill's right, her crossed left knee barely bumping his. She felt his attention on her as she pulled out her mug, then reached over to retrieve his as well.

"Carter?"

"I'm making myself some hot chocolate, Sir, before bed. I thought you might like some, too."

"Ah, thanks. Too bad I didn't think to bring any dessert to go with it."

"What was wrong with the stuff Akaia offered you?" Sam hid her grin as she asked, knowing exactly why O'Neill had refused the young woman's dessert offer earlier. Sure enough, the Colonel shifted uncomfortably next to her.

"Ah, well. You know. It kind of reminded me of...cake."

"I thought you liked cake, Sir?"

"I'm a little leery of cake that's only offered to me, you know?"

Unable to stifle her amusement any longer, Sam let a soft giggle slip through. Since their, or rather his, encounter with Kynthia and her 'marriage cake,' they all tended to shy away from food offered to only one of their party. "I know, Colonel. I was just teasing." She carefully pulled the now steaming pot of water off of the fire, pouring its contents into both of their mugs. She handed him his mug and watched as he closed his eyes and took a sip. It wasn't wrong to simply enjoy watching him...was it? After all, she had to make sure he liked it. Right? Sure.

Looking away, Sam sipped her own hot drink and firmly wrestled her feelings back into the corner where they belonged. Next to her, the Colonel reached out and poked the fire, sending embers spiraling into the night sky, swirling in time to the rhythm of the singers and dancers as the music picked up in intensity. Sam glanced over to the larger fire. "Any idea what they're singing about, Sir?"

"I'm pretty sure Tunané said that it was some kind of fertility dance." O'Neill's voice was deadpan.

"Wh–" Sam, caught in mid-swallow, inhaled quickly and began coughing as the hot chocolate flew into her esophagus. She gasped and quickly set her cup down, leaning forward. Suddenly the Colonel's hand was on her back, thumping it, trying to help her out. Finally recovering, she twisted to face her unrepentant CO. "Sir! I thought you sent Teal'c to–"

"Relax, Captain. I was joking. Payback for the cake comment." He quirked a small smile and raised his eyebrow, his brown eyes twinkling with good humor, his hand still absently patting her back.

He seemed to realize what his hand was doing and abruptly jerked away, giving Sam a final pat on the shoulder. She gave him a weak smile and tried not to want his hand on her back once more. "Good one, Sir." Picking up her drink, she again turned her attention to the fire, watching the ebb and flow of the air over the embers at its base–dark chasing light–her thoughts mirroring that endless circle. You are not attracted to your CO...you are his Second and Second's do not get crushes on their senior's...you are not attracted to your CO...

"Carter?"

Sam jumped, startled despite his having spoken very softly. "S-sir?"

"You okay?" O'Neill leaned forward, trying to catch her gaze.

"Yes, Sir." Sam met his eyes and quickly looked away, certain that if she looked directly at her CO for too long he'd know exactly what she was thinking. Tonight, for some reason, she was having a difficult time, it was harder to put her errant thoughts back into the box from which they'd escaped. Desperate for a distraction, she fumbled for the food sack at her feet. Reaching in, she pulled out a flat, foil-wrapped packet and balanced it on her knee. Concentrating on opening it, she used the task to reign her thoughts in. When she finally got it open, she held out one half of its contents to O'Neill. "It's not cake, but...S'more, Colonel?"

O'Neill studied her for a moment, long enough that Carter began to get a little nervous. Maybe she hadn't boxed everything up as tightly as she'd–"

"Sure." He took it from her with a little smile, then stopped just short of taking a bite. "You, ah, didn't make these, did you?"

Sam snorted. "Don't worry, Colonel, these are regular over the counter S'more Pop Tarts." She dipped hers into her drink before adding, "Guaranteed free of magic aging dust. You'll wake up tomorrow just another day older and still safe from the women of the village."

Satisfied, O'Neill took a bit and leaned back, chewing contentedly. "Ah, Carter, that's okay. If I was going to grow old with anyone, it'd be you."

What?

Sam's heart thudded to a stop for an instant before resuming and beating wildly within her chest. There was simply no way on Earth...or PXY 887...that he meant what he'd just said in the way she thought. She slowly turned toward him, knowing instantly that his casual pose was a ruse. He was suddenly as taut and still as was she. His body was singing with tension, the hand holding the half-eaten dessert frozen in front of his face, his mouth hanging open. Sam watched as he, just as slowly as she had, turned his head to face her, his eyes wide with shock.

"I said that out loud?"

Sam slowly nodded, closing her mouth as her heart began to race again. The air around them was charged with tension; the chants of the dancers and singers receded until the only sound she heard was her own breathing. And his. The moment stretched between them for an eternity, her heartbeat accompanied by the throbbing thunder of the villagers' drums.

"Shit."

It was his softly muttered expletive that did it, that broke their impasse. Sam felt a smile slide across her face and let it build into a full-fledged grin. She held his gaze for a long, silent moment, oblivious to the music, laughter and dance continuing nearby, and waited for him to relax again. When he did, when his face softened with the realization that she wasn't in any way offended or put off by his inadvertent comment, Sam pulled her eyes from his.

She turned away and deliberately mirrored his pose, leaning back against the rocks behind them, stretching her long legs before her, alongside his. As she eased back she felt the residual heat of the daytime sun still trapped in the rocks warm her back, just as her Colonel's words had warmed her soul. After a moment Sam broke the remaining portion of her S'more in half and handed a portion to O'Neill. She held onto the fragment even after he'd reached for it, waiting until his eyes met hers.

"I'll keep that in mind." Sam let out a breath and smiled at him, cautiously easing open the lid of that box into which she'd locked her feelings. "Sir."