Disclaimer: Not mine. Rating: PG. Set: Post-Ascension. (don't apply logic to this)
Archive: SJFic yes, please. All others, sure. (like I pay attention to this sort of thing. sigh)
Notes: Erm. I actually found this. So, I don't think I've posted it before. If I have, I sincerely apologize (and a look back through didn't bring up any possible titles). Further note: I'm listening to Nine Inch Nails and writing fluff. Is there a plank loose in my brain?
There is no porn. Sorry.

Pretty Good Year by Ana Lyssie Cotton

"So. You make souffles."

"Hrm?" Sam Carter considered moving, considered rolling over and facing the man flopped against her back with his lips against her neck. His breath was sort of tickling. But she was tired, and really simply wanted to sleep.


His arm was flopped over her, his thumb (apparently) idly stroking a patch of skin under her right breast. Until now, she hadn't really noticed it. Until now, he'd been sleeping just like her.

Resigning herself to at least a partial conversation, she took her mouth off the corner of the pillow and grimaced. Chewing a pillow. Damn, who'd'a thunk Sam Carter chewed pillows in her sleep. "Me, what?"

"Can make souffles."

Ok. If she'd been facing him, she would have nailed him with her patented, "What the fuck are you talking about, sir?" expression. Instead she merely shifted and let out a sigh. "Yes. I can make souffles."

"Carter." He paused to removed the wisps of hair from his mouth, then resumed talking against her neck (which was making her skin itch), "You can't even boil water properly. How the hell can you make souffles?"

"It's like a lab experiment." Hoping that would satisfy him, she prepared to settle down when a thought struck her. "And why the hell do you wanna know?"

The bed shifted slightly, "'Cause."


The hand under her breast stilled for a moment, then began gliding its nails on her skin. "'Cause I think it's cute."

"Cute, huh?"


She considered for a few moments, because interestingly enough, she almost wasn't sleepy anymore. Except... And yet, the man at her back was restless. He got like this, sometimes. Daniel and Teal'c had long ago learned to wander off when Jack O'Neill was restless at midnight. It had... made for some smirks in the morning. And some soreness, not to mention sleepiness.

A restless Jack O'Neill was a danger to himself as well as others.

But that wasn't what first came to mind.

"How did you know?"

"Know what?"

She refused to turn around to face him. It was too silly. Besides. She was sleepy. "That I can make souffles."

"Just did."

"Uhuh." Stretching out carefully, dragging her toes down his legs and bumping back against him, Sam let out a sigh. "So I'm cute because I can make souffles?"

The hand had shifted upwards and was now carefully caressing the lower half of her breast. That whole sleepy feeling was definitely gone. "Yup."


Stubble-clad chin slid along her neck as he shifted and licked her neck. "Hrm?"

Blowing out a breath, she moved, rolling in a tactic he had once taught her that ended up with her straddling him, his hands already gliding to her waist. "Cute, huh?"

"Yup." A smirk flickered across his lips.

"I'll show you cute." Her tone was little more than a growl, her eyes gleaming.

For a moment, he might have had fear flicker in his eyes. Then it was replaced by more self-satisfied smirking. "Cool."


Much later, she was nearly asleep when she remembered something. Poking the shoulder next to her, with a finger, Sam waited. She was definitely awake again.

A grunt came from Jack.

"You never answered my question."

"Carter." His voice was sleepy, and slightly authoritarian. "Go to sleep."

"No." Continuing on before he could muster a reply, she said, "How did you know I could make souffles."

"Gah. Y'know, if I'd known it would be a Spanish inquisition--"

"Jack. Don't dodge the question, or I'll begin to think you're..." Her voice trailed off as she realized exactly who she had told about her newfound skill. "Oh."

"See?" His voice was muffled. "I knew you'd get all tense about it."

"You talked to Orlin about me? When?!"

His head turned and he met her gaze without flinching. "One of the days you were working in your lab to convince us not to test the weapon."

"And you went to make sure you could trust me."

"To back you up." His eyes were still holding hers. "I wanted to meet this alien who had taken a strange fascination with you."

"Jack..." There wasn't anything she could think of to say. On the one hand, he'd been worried, on the other, he hadn't trusted her. And on another, it was weird to see him so completely serious. It disturbed her. "How did you get him to talk to you?"

"Pretended to be a delivery man."

Now there was something she would have paid money to see.

"Carter, it's not that I don't trust you. But Simmons was making noises, and even though I knew you could handle it, I wanted... I wanted to be able to back you up with something concrete."

She shrugged, "It's okay."

"No." He touched her cheek. "It's not, is it. You--Carter, I would trust you with this entire planet."

"And if it had been Daniel who had an alien friend?"

"I would have done the same thing."

Unbidden came the image of Orlin declaring his undying devotion to Daniel, and she fought back a giggle. But her lips twitched. "Fine."

"We're good?"

"Mhmm." She curled into his side and let out a sigh. "As long as you don't start stalking me."

"Been doing that for years," he mumbled.

"Very good at it, too."

"Yup." The arm around her shoulders tightened.

"Night, Jack."

"Night, Carter."