9/25/2006 update is only to correct the name of the sequel.


Good Daniel and Bad Daniel were duking it out in his head. Good Daniel was the one who had made him stop Sam and ask her if she was sure when she was about to give herself to him in his apartment. Good Daniel had eventually become so uncomfortable with his plotting that he had risen up and objected mightily. "What kind of a man are you?" Good Daniel had demanded, as Daniel pursued his plan of rousing desire in Sam, establishing a healthy physical relationship, and using it to make her fall in love with him. Daniel couldn't give a satisfactory answer and eventually had capitulated to Good Daniel's demands, turning Sam down because she wanted him, but didn't love him.

Bad Daniel was howling in anguish, hopping up and down and hissing, "Fool. You bloody fool," at him. "She WANTS you. What could be wrong with that? She's your wife after all."

Miraculously, when he had pulled back from trying to seduce Sam, she had taken up the gauntlet and now she was trying to seduce him. He was lying in bed, pondering the absolutely stunning event that had just occurred and trying to get Good Daniel and Bad Daniel to shut up long enough that he could process it.

The weather was terrible. There was heavy snow and ice and it was bitterly cold. Sam had begged him the night before to think of the risk involved and forgo running this once. Daniel had been forced to agree and mentally resigned himself to an extra cold shower. She had been, he thought, inordinately pleased and now he knew why. He'd still been sleeping when her alarm went off. It had roused him slightly, enough to feel the bed rise when she got out of it. He assumed she was making a trip to the bathroom for mundane purposes when she stunned him. She got to the spot he usually used for his post running strip tease and, with her back to him, had pulled her pajama bottoms off. The top was long and covered most of her backside but he could still see long, lovely legs. She pulled her top off then and he saw her sweet dimpled rump and the lovely curve of her back. She leaned over to pick up her pajamas and, for just a moment, he saw his wife's beautiful breasts for the first time. He barely stifled an audible gasp, stuffing his fist in his mouth. He was sure she had heard it. Hadn't he stood in the same spot, stripping for her for weeks?

Now, for an encore, his sweet wife was downstairs, to his considerable trepidation, trying to cook him breakfast. He could smell the coffee. So far he didn't smell anything burned. He was REALLY hoping she had decided on something like yogurt and fruit and some of those lovely croissants from the bakery they patronized. He heard her steps on the stairs and some clinking of silverware and knew he was about to find out. He settled back in the bed, closed his eyes, and produced some deep, even breathing.

She gently shook his shoulder and then leaned over and kissed his cheek. "Daniel, honey," she breathed in his ear, "breakfast."

He rolled over and smiled, trying for groggy. "Sam," he yawned, "what time is it?"

"It's about 6:30," she responded, settling down on the bed next to him.

"How long have you been up?" he asked unbelieving. Sam's mode of operation was to wait until the last moment before they had to leave for work and then speed dress.

"An hour or so. I couldn't sleep," she said. Daniel thought, "That's what happens to most people when they have their alarm clocks go off," but he didn't voice the thought out loud.

"Mmmm. Do I smell something?" he asked, leveraging himself to a sitting position.

"I thought I'd bring you some breakfast," she said and lifted an actual tray, a new purchase for sure, off the bedside table and set it down on his lap.

"What do we have here?" he asked, inventorying the tray. There were two large mugs of steaming coffee, one with just the right amount of cream, some juice, strawberries and cream, and croissants, lovely croissants. "Have you eaten?"

She scooted up to lean against the headboard next to him. "I thought we could share," she said. She picked up the black coffee and sipped.

He chuckled and leaned over to kiss her cheek. "Thanks, honey. I really love these croissants."

"I know," she said happily. "Can I have a strawberry?" She put her hand on his thigh under the covers and squeezed.

He picked one up and plopped it in her mouth. Her hand was moving up his thigh. "Maybe you could return the favor," he requested a bit huskily. She gave him one and then slowly, languorously, licked the cream off her fingers.

He picked up a croissant and decided maybe they needed to talk about something that would provide some verbal cold water. Her hand was continuing to move up his thigh. He knew he should remove it, but Bad Daniel was in the saddle at the moment. "I think we're going to have to call a plumber for the half bath downstairs," he announced. "It started to overflow on me again last night and I had to turn the water off."

"I think it's much more fun to turn things on, don't you?" she asked with blatant innuendo, her hand now as far as it could go before they got in serious trouble.

"Sam, what are you doing?" he asked. He trapped her hand in his.

"Having breakfast," she answered innocently. She leaned over and kissed him lightly on the lips, grabbing a croissant, and going off to the bathroom with her mug.

When he went into his knapsack mid-morning to pull out a book he had brought from home, his hand encountered a large envelope. He pulled it out and turned it over. It wasn't addressed but for whom else would it be intended hidden in his knapsack? He opened it up and saw that he was participating in a Hallmark moment. The front of the card showed Pooh Bear with a pot of honey and said "Honey…" The message on the inside said "You make my day." It was signed "Your 'Annie,'" the reference to the romance he had been reading her quite plain.

There was a huge lump in his throat. He wasn't sure what it meant but it seemed like something more than lust. It had to be. He looked up to see Cam and Hanna at the door. "Jackson?" Cam said, his greeting tinged with a little concern. Daniel imagined that he probably did look a trifle overcome.

"Hey, Mitchell, Hanna, good morning."

"Hanna wanted to come by and visit you for a bit," Cam said. "You prepped for the mission tomorrow?"

"Sure," Daniel said and gestured Hanna to a chair as Cam took himself off. He decided there was one way to get an answer to his questions about Sam. He knew damn well they weren't fooling Hanna. Why not take advantage of the resource? He pulled his desk chair around so he was right next to her. "Hanna, I gotta ask you something."

I may not be able to answer you but I will try."

"Here's the thing," Daniel started, searching for words. "The other day, several weeks ago I guess, you said that you were picking up lust, love, and commitment from us. Was that actually just from me? Was any part of that from Sam?"

Hanna chuckled softly. "What took you so long to ask?" She sobered immediately, knowing it was deadly serious to him. "At that time, I sensed lust from both of you, but the love was faint in Colonel Carter and the commitment was all yours."

Daniel kicked himself mentally. He'd been happier when he didn't know for sure. "Thanks," he said, heavily and started to stand up.

"Wait a minute," Hanna said. "I said 'at that time.' Are you interested in what I picked up, say yesterday?"

He looked at her, uncertain. Surely she wouldn't tease. He closed his eyes like a man waiting for the knife to fall but hoping that Robespierre would have a last minute change of heart. "Okay, sure."

"Yesterday," she said, "the love was coming from both of you, very strongly."

His heart sang in his chest. He decided to push his luck. "What about commitment?"

"Where there was none before, now I sense something, something new and still confusing for her."

Daniel whooped loudly and pulled her up into a hug. He whirled her around in an exuberant circle and then gave her a big hug. "Thanks," he said simply at last, beaming at her.

That evening, he was sitting at his laptop, trying to get caught up on editing an in-house paper for which a colleague, a brilliant but, paradoxically, inarticulate linguist, had requested help. His attention insisted on wandering and a grin kept stealing over his face. Sam LOVED him. She was his wife. She wanted him like he wanted her. His first impulse had been to run to her lab and drag her into a broom closet or the like. The next had been to run to her lab and drag her home. Fortunately, there had been a mini-emergency and he had made a quick trip to help SG-9 on P8G890 when a valuable artifact they were recovering had unexpectedly started to crumble. By the time he was back, he realized that their first time together should be very special. Ever since then all sorts of salacious scenarios had been jostling each other in his brain.

Despite his general happiness, his neck was killing him and he periodically stopped to rub it ineffectually. Then he felt a warm, soft pressure against his back. Sam was standing behind him. She reached down and started to knead his shoulders and his neck. She wasn't an expert but she was definitely succeeding in making him feel better. His head was nestled between her breasts as she leaned forward. He looked up into her lovely face. "Mmmm, honey, that does feel good," he told her.

"I'm glad you like it," she answered, smiling a little tentatively at him. "I'm not as good at this as you are."

"Oh, I don't know about that," he disagreed. He loved the way she was making him feel. One hand had strayed from his shoulder to glide over his chest and inside his flannel shirt.

"Sam," he asked. "Would you mind changing positions?"

"What do you mean?" she said, willing but unsure of what he wanted.

He pulled her around in front of him and positioned her so she was straddling his lap. "Do it from the front."

She continued to knead his neck, her mouth inches from his own, her eyes searching his. "Sam," he said, the weeks of self-control suddenly too much to bear any longer.

"Ummmm," she responded and removed his glasses. "I don't think you need those. I'm definitely inside your focal length anyway."

"There's something I want to tell you."

"I called the plumber," she said. "I came home early to meet him. The bathroom's fixed."

"You don't have to try so hard, honey," he said, cupping her cheek.

"That's what you have to tell me?" she demanded softly.

"Be still, Sam," he ordered and put a finger on her mouth. "I was hoping to do this with some grand romantic gesture, something you'd never forget, but I've waited years and I can't wait another minute."

Hope and fear mingled in her beautiful blue eyes. She licked her lips and he groaned a little. "Do you have any idea how damn sexy that is?" he asked, running a thumb over her lips.

"That's it?" she said.

"Sam, you have to be quiet," he said, softly laughing. "Promise me you'll be quiet."

"Okay, okay, so what is it?"

"Colonel Doctor Samantha Carter," he said solemnly, "Doctor Daniel Jackson is head over heals in love with you and would like to respectfully request, hell abjectly beg, for you to consent to allow him to make love to you."

Her eyes filled with tears and she put her hand over her mouth. His heart sank. Could he have been so wrong about Hanna's abilities. "I'm sorry, Sam, just…" he started to say when she cut him off with a kiss. Not just any kiss. A very suggestive kiss. When at last she took her mouth away, he gaped at her. "I thought you were upset there for a minute," he said.

"Silly, silly, Danny," she said, fondly. "For years, huh? Why didn't you say something? Do something? Think of all the wild, passionate sex we've missed out on?"

That wasn't quite what he wanted to hear and she looked suddenly contrite. "You do know that I love you, Daniel. You do know that, right?"

"I thought so," he answered and then she kissed him again. "Now I know," he said a moment later. "You do know this is going to present problems for the mission tomorrow?"

"Forget that," Sam admonished him. "That's not happening in this chapter. Take me upstairs and make wild, Gypsy love to me." He stood in one fluid movement and shifted her into his arms.

He addressed the large stuffed dog on the floor next to the couch. "I am now carrying my beautiful bride upstairs to our bed where I'm going to do things to her that you are too young to witness. You may hear her scream," he paused to look at Sam. "I don't even know. Are you a screamer?"

"Oh yes," she said throatily. "You don't mind?"

"Not at all," he said shifting her closer. He returned to the stuffed dog and amended his statement, "When you hear her scream, do not be alarmed. We won't be down until morning, so hold the fort."

He carried Sam upstairs and the poor stuffed dog got a very uncertain night's sleep, what with all the screaming.


Continued in the sequel, "We Do."