A/N: If you have read my other stuff, you know most of it is internally consistent and doesn't contradict canon (so far). This story is no different. This is Trinity's fault from S/J thread on GW. Cause she asked, and these scenes popped into my fron. With both a touch of angst and fluff and gutter, I might add. And this is unbetaed, so all mistakes are my own.

He glanced at his watch for the thousandth time, then back up at the monitors hanging overhead. Her flight was still on time, which gave him a whole five minutes left to spend staring at his watch. Next time he was going to have her beam down directly to their house. Which he'd considered a hundred times before, and which he knew he was never actually going to do. Too much an abuse of power, and terribly unfair to everyone else onboard.

He glanced at his watch again.

Still, it always seemed this final wait until she was actually back home where she belonged was the hardest part of each tour. He glanced back up at the monitors. Again. The words next to her flight had changed. Finally. Her flight had arrived, and for once it was early. Thank goodness.

It couldn't be long now. In fact, he knew it usually took no more than eight minutes for her to deplane and make her way out past the security checkpoints. He tried to distract himself by watching the people moving past him in the crowded airport and imagining where they were coming from, and where they were going. What their lives might be like. He figured most of them were family groups headed to DC to spend the holiday with friends or relatives.

Long moments passed as he tried to pretend he wasn't simply watching the crowd for the familiar blonde head… And there she was. Just walking out through the checkpoints.

Her eyes found him at the same time, sparkling in that way only they could as she quickened her pace towards him. Reaching him, she dropped her carry-on at his feet, circling his waist with her arms as he pulled her against his chest.

After several long moments in which they were content to simply hold each other, he broke the silence. "Welcome home, Sam. How was the trip?" he asked into her hair.

She chuckled, the sound rumbling into him through their contact. "The last few hours were the worst. Before that, as I'm sure you know, blissfully uneventful."

"At least you managed to be home over Christmas."

She pushed away slightly to look at him accusingly. "I think that was more than luck. Only the Apollo is remaining in Earth orbit for defense. Everyone else was sent home for the holiday."

He smiled in response, "Yup. Seemed like a good idea at the time." He gently bent his lips to meet hers, and after several moments observed, "Seems like an even better idea now."

She laughed again. "You betcha." Then, stepping out of his embrace, she turned to the infant sleeping in the stroller next to Jack. "I missed this little guy more than I'd have imagined possible," she reflected quietly.

"He missed you too."

She snorted. "Sure. I'll bet. He probably didn't even notice I was gone."

Jack laughed. "He might not have, but I sure did. At his 2am feeding, especially." He paused for her laughter, which she gave on cue, before continuing, "Now, Colonel Doctor Samantha Carter Mrs. O'Neill Mommy, let's get out of her and go home."

Sam stepped around to push the stroller as Jack picked up her bag and, together, they headed out of the airport.

Just another family going home for the holidays.


Sam stepped into the living room, a glass of champagne in each hand. Jack sat in front of the fireplace, the light of the fire illuminating his face in flickering light but casting the rest of the room in dancing shadows. He turned to look over his shoulder at her as she approached. "Is he down?"

She nodded. "Yup. And only two hours till midnight."

Jack gave a look of mock concern. "Why, Carter, any idea how to kill time until then?"

She held his glass of champagne out to him and sat down next to him in the couch, curling against him as she did so. "I have an idea…"

"Me too," he agreed, setting his recently acquired champagne on the coffee table. "But it doesn't really involve champagne." He took her glass from her and set it down next to his own.


"Mhmm." And, reaching towards her, he began first with hands and lips and then other even more interesting parts to make it clear exactly what it was he did have in mind.

Some time later, long after they had moved from the living room back into their bedroom, Sam came awake with a start and glanced at the clock. 3am.

She looked at Jack who was sleeping the sleep of the truly satisfied sprawled next to her. Shaking him slightly, she asked, "Jack?"

"Mmphf?" he finally answered.

"We missed New Years."

"Vre fwr?"

She shook him harder. "Jack?"

She finally got through to him. He opened his eyes slowly, finding hers in the semi-dark. "What?"

"It's 3am. We slept right through New Years."

Jack chuckled. "That wasn't sleep."

She hoped he couldn't see her blush. "You know what I mean."

He chuckled again, "It's okay. We've got all year."

"Yes.. But…"

Jack rolled over, pinning her beneath him. His eyebrows waggled suggestively. "And, really, Sam. Can you think of a better way to ring in the New Year?"

Now it was her turn to chuckle. "No. Not really," she conceded.

"Good. And so," he said, his hands already starting to move across her, "if you've no further silly complaints, I think it's time to find a way to celebrate New Year's Day…"

And, since his idea for celebrating the New Year was the same as for ushering out the old, Sam really did have no complaint.