Dilemma

By Blue Topaz

Disclaimer: Against my wish, Stargate SG-1 and its characters are not mine.

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Jack O'Neill was one tired Colonel.

He couldn't sleep very well for the last few days. Every time he closed his eyes, an image started to take shape inside his mind. Haunting him, taunting him, mocking him, pulling him away from the sleep that he very much needed. Carter and Jonas probably could survive with very little sleep on their part, while Teal'c probably didn't need it at all. Well, not too bad anyway. But he wasn't getting any younger.

He needed a good night's sleep and he wasn't getting any of that these days. And the worst thing was that he *knew* all along what had caused it but was reluctant to do anything about it. There was nothing wrong with indulging himself once in a while, right? But that 'little' indulgence was getting dangerous now, and was starting to have an effect on his health (lack of sleep = decreased stamina) and judgment (lack of sleep = cranky Colonel).

He had to end it now.

But oh how he wished that he didn't have to. He was already addicted to it. Sometimes he couldn't wait until it was night time so that he could surrender to that sweet torment. And he loathed it when the sun was rising, when it meant that the night was over and so was the welcomed torture.

"Sir, are you okay?" one worried Major asked.

"Huh?" he lifted his head that was supported by his hand, his elbow was propped on his desk. The Major had just entered his office, closely followed by Teal'c and Jonas. SG-1 was scheduled to have their monthly team meeting about now.

"O'Neill, are you feeling unwell?" one concerned Jaffa voiced his ... 'concern'. He blinked at them, he didn't remember hearing them knocking at his door or him answering 'come in'. He must have been more exhausted than he had first thought.

"Colonel, you don't look so well. You should go and see Doctor Fraiser," one Kelownan added.

He looked at the three of them, his red-ish eyes (courtesy of not enough rest) opened slightly, "I'm alright."

Carter, as always, didn't believe it, "With all due respect Sir, you don't look alright." He smiled at the gentle scolding tone that she was using. He knew that she was going to be a great mother in the future, with at least half a dozen kids with blonde hair and brown eyes, smart as their mother and witty as their fath -- ehm, his brain went for a random walk for a while there.

"I must concur with Major Carter's assessment. You do not look 'alright'," Teal'c, as wise as a man of his age could be, agreed with her.

Before Jonas could add anything, he decided to tell them the truth, it was not like he wasn't going to tell them. He just liked to stall the conversation a bit before actually answering any questions, "I haven't had enough sleep lately."

"Bad dreams?" Carter stepped closer and stood right at the edge of his desk, she put her hands on the table and leaned forward, clearly concerned about him.

"Uh ..." like hell it was a bad dream. The truth was, it was an extremely and utterly 'pleasurable' dream, "kind of," but he would tell her that over his dead body ... or his resignation, whichever came first. Or maybe just to her, with no former Apophis' First Prime, no alien with a strange obsession for Earth's food and no security camera around. If it was just the two of them, he *might* have told her.

"You must conquer your demon, O'Neill," Teal'c said, "before it destroys you."

He didn't mind being destroyed, really. Not by this demon.

"I will," he answered somewhat reluctantly. "I will," he said it once again with resignation in his voice. He slumped back into his chair, defeated by his friend's words.

"I guess the meeting is off then," Jonas chipped in.

"No, no. Let's do it now," he insisted. He didn't want to let his team down, he knew that a certain Major was very busy right now with various Naquadria projects (joint ventures with the folks at Area 51) and had to make an extra effort to spare her time to do this meeting.

"Are you sure, Sir?"

"Yes. Let's start."

***

He'd been standing there for a considerable amount of time. In front of his own door, still inside his house (it was cold outside), holding a shopping bag. Thinking, considering, contemplating ... rethinking, reconsidering, re-contemplating ... rethinking for the second time, reconsidering for the second time, re-contemp – for crying out loud, he really had to make a decision.

And stick to it.

He sighed. He had to do it, but he didn't want to. Finally, he made a deal with himself. One more night and that was it. One last night and he was going to end it. Yes, one last time, one last chance, one last glance and one last forbidden dream.

He turned around and left the poor door alone.

***

It always started so innocently. The object of his affection was buried under a thick blanket ... at first. And then movement. A small movement and one of her hands snuck out from under the cover. Another movement and her arm, her bare and smooth and white arm soon followed.

He clenched his fists.

She rolled to her side, the blanket following her movement. A flash of blonde hair stuck out and her uncovered and silky neck and shoulder were making an appearance.

His muscles tensed to prevent them from making a move.

She appeared to feel slightly warm under the blanket, her legs made a rapid movement and kicked the offending material away.

He took a deep breath.

There, in front of his own eyes was his sleeping Major. *His Major*. Wearing sweat pants (Damn!) and a tank top (That's more like it), lying on her side. The hem of the tank top was slightly ridden down, flashing him some flesh.

There was nothing more that he wanted to do than run his fingers there.

She rolled again to her back.

And that was when he knew that he was fighting a losing battle.

He could see her chest rising up and down in rhyme with the slow breaths that she took. The thin material of her chosen sleeping cloth didn't do justice in hiding the shape of some parts of her anatomy that he wasn't willing to share with anyone.

He ravished her with his greedy eyes. Did he mention that he loved every part of her body, including her feet that looked more incredible than any other feet that he had ever seen in his life?

Suddenly, her hands flung to her neck, scratching an itchy spot there.

Jack O'Neill had never seen anything sexier than his 2IC scratching her neck in her sleep (it helped that she was only wearing a skimpy top and her cleavage was making a movement as she did that as well). And when she sighed so softly as her hand kept rubbing her fair skin, he was sold. With 99.99% discount on the price tag.

He made a move towards her.

***

His eyes opened against his wishes.

The dream had always stopped there, when things could get really interesting. But in a way, he was grateful. Because he didn't think that he could look her straight in the face everyday if things *did* get really interesting. No, no. He would definitely type his resignation letter, sign it, and deliver it to Hammond's office in record time.

Now, that was a thought.

Without glancing at the clock, he knew what the time was. 03:28 am. As always.

He had never been able to sleep again after that, instead he lay there in the dark on his bed and memorized all the details of the picture that his dream had beautifully painted for him.

He had been having this dream since he accidentally eavesdropped on her conversation with Janet in the infirmary. He was injured off-world and kept in the infirmary. He was sleeping when suddenly he could hear the Major and the Doctor were chatting nearby. He was planning to make them aware that he was awake when --

" ... left your tank top at my house," that was the Doc's voice.

"Thanks Janet, I was wondering where I lost it. This is one of my favorites," Carter's.

"You have a favorite tank top to sleep in?" there was amusement in her voice.

"Anything wrong with that?"

"No," a pause, "oh well, it's kinda fitting, you are quite active in bed, aren't you?"

"JANET," Carter was shocked, so was he to be honest.

The good 'ol Doctor Fraiser laughed, "You must admit Sam, you can't sleep still. Cassie still has a black eye from your last sleepover."

"I didn't mean it. It was not like I had control over my body when I was sleeping," the reply delivered sheepishly.  

"What about when you're off-world?"

"The sleeping bag limits my movement."

He couldn't care less about the rest of the conversation; it had put images inside his head. Those images cut him from the cruel real world and sent him to his own fantasy world, where he would happily spend the rest of his life.

That fateful day had changed his life forever.

***

"For you."

Major Samantha Carter averted her eyes from the report that had just arrived in her lab that morning to a plain white shopping bag that had just landed on her desk.

"For me, Sir?" she couldn't help but ask. It was not often, well, actually, her CO had *never* given her something out of the blue like this. Today was not her birthday, not Christmas Day and not even Valentine's Day (hey, a girl could dream, couldn't she?). Today was just an ordinary day.

"Yeah, for you," he was standing in front of her nervously, his hands were stuffed inside his pockets.

"Wow," she didn't know what to say, "thanks." She gave him a smile while wondering what was inside the bag.

"Uhm, I see that you have a lot of work to get done, so I'll leave you to it," he excused himself and made a hasty exit before she could say another word.

Her eyebrows drew closer together. He didn't want to be around when she saw what his gift was, so there were two plausible explanations that she could think of. One, the gift was a prank. Two, the gift was something personal. Judging by his reaction when he entered her lab, the second one was more likely than the first.

She took the bag and looked down to see what was inside it. It was a material with the color of the sky and looked very expensive. She took it out and appreciated the smoothness of the fabric. She started to unfold it and almost burst out laughing when she realized what it was.

Colonel Jack O'Neill had just given his second-in-command blue satin pajamas.

***

He was back. The object of his affection was buried under a thick blanket ... as usual. And then movement. A small movement and one of her hands snuck out from under the cover. He could see the PJ's sleeves and it covered her arms.

He smiled at the sight.

She rolled to her side, the blanket following her movement. A flash of blonde hair stuck out and her neck and shoulder were making an appearance, hidden under the blue satin.

His smile was getting wider.

She appeared to feel slightly warm under the blanket, her legs made a rapid movement and kicked the offending material away.

There, in front of his own eyes was his sleeping Major. *His Major*. Wearing the pajamas that he had bought especially for her (she looked so cute and cuddly in them), lying on her side. The hem of the blue top was slightly ridden down, flashing him some flesh.

Uh-oh, this looked vaguely familiar.

She rolled again to her back.

And that was when he acknowledged that the battle was not over yet.

He could see that she had left three or four top buttons undone, flashing him her chest, which was rising up and down in rhyme with the slow breaths that she took. The new material of her chosen sleeping cloth may of covered her body better than the old one, but he still could see the outline of her figure.

He was torn.

Her feet, which couldn't be covered by the new fabric, still looked more incredible than any other feet that he had ever seen in his life.

Suddenly, her hands flung to her neck, scratching an itchy spot there. Again.

Jack O'Neill had never seen anything sexier than his 2IC scratching her neck in her sleep (even with the long sleeved pajamas, he could see her cleavage moving as she did that). And when she sighed so softly as her hand kept rubbing her fair skin, wearing tank top or not, he was sold. Still with the 99.99% discount.

He made a move towards her.

***

Damn.

Damn damn damn damn damn damn damn.

It wasn't working. His 'supposedly' brilliant solution wasn't working. His eyes opened against his wishes. A quick glance at his digital clock, the time showed 04:36 am. The new pajamas had given him an additional 52 minutes of sleep. But it wasn't enough for a man his age. He cried out in frustration.

The resigning letter looked like a very good prospect now.

The End

Note: Thanks for JayBee_Bug who beta read this one for me. If you enjoy the story, please do write reviews and feedbacks ... :)