Title: Tomorrow she could save the world

Pairing: Sam/Jack

Warning: Mature, fluff

Words: ~1300

Summary: She was wearing his BDU shirt. And nothing else.

A/N: Inspired by the SGA Wardrobe of Doom discussion.

Sam rolled over and looked at the clock. Just after two. It'd been a long time since she'd shared a bed someone with any regularity and she was still getting used to not having all the real-estate to herself. She tried to shift again to find that just-right spot on what was now 'her side' of the bed but her elbow came in sharp contact with Jack's kidney and he let out a grunt in his sleep and rolled over, effectively pinning her to the bed with his arm.

This wasn't working. She carefully slid out from under Jack and shivered as the chill night air coming through the open window hit her bare skin. She reached into the closet and snagged the first article of clothing she touched, smiling in the dark when she realized which one it was. The cotton was soft and worn from a million industrial washes and smelled faintly of Old Spice and her own fabric softener. It was the blue one with the worn collar. The one stolen from Jack's closet in a pinch that had never made its way back to his house, let alone back to the base where it belonged.

She buttoned it up and padded out to the kitchen, rolling up the cuffs as she went.


Jack felt the bed move as Sam slid out from underneath him. He heard the soft squeak of the closet door and the chug of the water cooler as she filled a glass. He'd known she was awake for a while but figured it was just nerves. She had the big chair this week at the SGC while Landry was in DC making recommendations for Jack's replacement. Though he knew she relished the chance to add the experience to her resume, the responsibility lay heavily on her shoulders and she'd been wound tight since he'd arrived Sunday evening. This wasn't her first restless night.

Deciding that sleep was no longer in his near future anyhow, he rolled out of bed and followed her out to the kitchen.

When he saw her leaning against the kitchen counter, silhouetted by the soft glow from the cupboard task-lighting, he felt his temple for a Tok'ra memory device. Somehow, somebody had gotten into his head and discovered one of his deepest, darkest, Carter dreams. And if he didn't snap out of it soon, he'd spill all his classified secrets.

Her hair was mussed and hung loose over her shoulders. Her legs were bare and went all the way up to the hem of her shirt.


His shirt.

She was wearing his BDU shirt. And nothing else.

It was his favourite fantasy. She didn't even need the boots.

Jack swallowed and she must have heard him because she looked right through the shadows and gave him that half smile that was part question, part suggestion. Suggestion of what, he wasn't yet sure, but he was almost certain it wasn't an offer for small talk.

"Couldn't sleep?" He finally asked, just to be sure.

She shrugged and set the water glass down beside her.

"No." She spaced her hands on either side and pulled herself up to sit on the counter. The BDU shirt rode high and then settled on her lap, discretely revealing bare skin and the suggestion of her hip.

"Want to talk about it?"

"Not really."

Jack nodded and took the last few steps until he was standing in front of her, hands cupping her knees, his fingertips brushing the smooth skin underneath. She tensed slightly at the touch and he ran his thumbs across her kneecaps until he felt the muscles loosen again. He loved her knees. They were the one part of her that seemed fragile and delicate. Nature's one imperfection in the human template.

She leaned back against the cupboards and took another sip of her water. She rolled her head from one shoulder to the other, stretching the knots out and sighed.

Jack slid his hands up her thighs, stopping at the hem of the shirt only long enough to wait for her permission. She looked down at him and gave an almost imperceptible nod that he felt, rather than saw. They'd spent so many years together in the field reading each other's cues that he didn't need anything more than the slightest twitch of a muscle or tilt of a head to communicate intent.

She let out a low moan as his hands slipped under the shirt and found their way to the tension in her back.

He pulled her to him and she leaned in, resting her head on his shoulder and letting him rub at the knots. Another groan escaped from deep in the back of her throat, stirring a response down in his gut.

"Sure you don't want to talk about it?" he asked, his voice suddenly thick.

"Even more sure now," she whispered, hands coming to rest in his hair and across his shoulder.

His hands wandered back down her hips and along her thighs, parting them as they went. She wrapped her legs around him and pulled him the rest of the way forward.

Jack knew she was trying to distract him when she ran her fingertip lightly across the top of his ear. He was certain of it when she traced the same path with her tongue, her warm breath sending a hum down his spine that reverberated like a sharply plucked cello string.

He retaliated, sliding a hand back under the worn fabric of the shirt, his shirt, brushing her nipple with the rough tip of his thumb. Her sharp gasp was enough to let him know he still had the upper hand. With the other, he undid the top button of the shirt. She tried to bat him away and take control, but he stopped her with short with his mouth on her collarbone, his lips dropping a string of delicate pearls from one shoulder to the other. She tried to pull back but he held her firm.

He knew she wouldn't resist for long. She captured his chin in her palm in a barely fought battle of wills and pulled him to her lips. It was an old tactic and he didn't flinch when she trailed a finger down his stomach, between her thighs, and past the waistband of his shorts to capture her prize. He tried not to surrender on the spot.

Distracted by her offence, he tried to flank her and was successful with the second button. She ran her fingers through his hair as he went for the newly exposed curve of her breast and held him tight.

"I don't think…" she trailed off as his tongue caught her nipple and he held it in his teeth. His hands pushed the shirt up over her hips and his fingers dug into her ass.

"This isn't…" She gasped. He released one nipple and went for the other, interrupting her once again. She pressed against him and dug her fingers nails into his shoulder. He had the passing thought about that leaving a mark, but it was fleeting and by the time his mouth had worked it's way to her navel and he was fumbling with another button, she'd recovered enough to grab his hands, and still them until she caught her breath.

She licked her lips and swallowed and he almost took her right there.

"Bedroom," Sam brushed her hair out of her eyes. "Please?"

Jack helped her down off the counter and twined his fingers through hers, the urgency slowed for now. "Do me a favour though?" He asked as he straightened the shirt collar and couldn't resist letting his fingers brush across the back of her neck as he did it.

"What's that?" she shivered as his hand left her.

"Keep the shirt on."