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Summary: Just a little J/S angst/romance from Sam's POV.

Any reviews would be appreciated! :)

I look at him, and I want him to want me, the way I want him. I look at him, and my body aches for him and my thoughts are consumed with him and I catch myself staring right as he turns to look at me with that typical Jack face, one eyebrow raised in a silent question.

"Carter?" he says and I just shake my head a little and look down at the report in my hands about our next off-world trip, destination P3X-442, and pretend to read it, though the lines are just a blur.

I know he's still looking at me. I can feel it. But I force myself to keep my eyes lowered because I know that one glance - one glance is all it would take for him to read everything that I'm thinking, that I'm feeling. I've never been great at hiding my emotions. I'm military trained and I can kick ass with the best of them, even kick the best of their asses, but still, when it comes to matters of the heart, I'm as clueless as a giddy thirteen year old girl with her first high school crush.

He turns back to the screen, but I know he's paying about as much attention as I've been, which is to say none whatsoever.

When the briefing is over, he comes up to me.

"What's up?" So eloquent, my Jack, I think to myself. My Jack? Where did that thought come from? He's not MY anything, except to say that he IS my CO and thinking like that can only lead to dangerous paths. He's looking at me, still waiting for an answer, and I'm wondering just how much of those last thoughts could he read on my face.

"Nothing, sir." Emphasis on the sir just to remind myself. " Nothing's up, just a lot on my mind." A lot on my mind, yea, that's an understatement for sure.

"If you say so, Carter." He replies with that look, that knowing look, like he's fully aware of exactly what I was just thinking about during the briefing. But how could he? He couldn't possibly right? And I scan back through everything I said in the last hour, reassuring myself that everything I had said was appropriate and in no way revealing of my real thoughts. And yet, he still has that look.

An hour later, he wonders into my lab and shuts the door, flipping the lock. Why is he flipping the lock? I wonder to myself. He saunters over to where I'm standing by the microscope and stops just a little closer than is strictly normal. He's so close that I can feel his warmth and I can smell him. And he smells so good and I feel myself getting lost in those thoughts again, those thoughts that I know can lead nowhere good – well, at least not good for my career. Personally, on the other hand, they happen to be my favorite thoughts. The ones I dwell on late at night, when I'm in a cold bed, all alone. Once again, I catch myself lost in my thoughts and when I snap to, I realize that I'm staring at his lips. And when I look up, when I look at his eyes, I realize that he's been looking at mine too.

My heart is beating faster and I irrationally think What if he hears it beating so fast? But before I can even begin to rationalize that ridiculous thought, his head is lowering - lowering towards mine. It's like everything is happening in slow motion and I know where this is leading and I know I should stop it, say something, but every fiber of my being is aching for his lips to come crashing down on mine. And before I can rationalize myself into breaking away, I lean up, put my arms around his neck and pull his lips down onto mine.

And it's bliss. It's everything I've imagined it would be, but more. Pure bliss. Soft but passionate. I can't get enough of his taste, he tastes so good to me and I don't want the moment to end, ever. But my lungs are aching for breath and I reluctantly break away. It takes me a moment to convince myself to open my eyes. I'm afraid of what I'll see. Will it be regret? Please, Lord, don't let it be regret. And I look up and it's not regret. It's not regret at all. It's love.