Based on Stargate: SG-1
Set after season 10.
This is a little less narrative, and more 'bones' of the story than I believe I'm used to. But I hope you all love it. Please tell me if you do. *hint hint, wink wink*
- . - - - . -
Samantha Carter growled in frustration. She was apartment hunting. She hadn't had to look for a new place in about ten years, and now she was looking for somewhere to live in Washington, DC. It was not going well.
"Any luck, Carter?" Jack O'Neill asked, sitting down next to her on his couch. He handed her a beer, taking a swig of his own.
She took a sip and then placed it on the end table on a coaster without taking her eyes off her laptop. "No," she grumbled. "You know, I'm gonna be on the ship most of the time anyway. I don't even really need a place to live, so much as a place to store my stuff."
"Why don't you store it here?"
She looked at him. "What?"
"I've got two guest bedrooms. We can put all your stuff in one and you can sleep here when you're planetside."
She stared at him with a surprised look.
"What?" he asked. "Bad idea?"
She shook her head. "No, it's a good idea. It might be the best idea you ever had."
O'Neill grinned and took a sip of beer. "So, when do you want to move in, Roomie?"
- . - Two Months Later
Sam was unloading groceries. She had just gotten back from a week underway, and they were completely out of groceries. There was about a swallow and a half of milk still in the jug in the fridge, and an empty cereal box in the cupboard.
So she had dragged the General to the grocery store. She was looking for bag of fresh peaches she had bought.
"Sir!" she called out, not bothering to look for him. "Did you bring in all the groceries from the car?!"
"What?!" he called back, "Yeah! It's right here," he entered the kitchen with the missing bag of groceries. "I left it by the door."
"Thanks." She took the bag from him and found the peaches. She took one out of the bag, peeled off the sticker and took a bite, slurping the juice so it wouldn't drip down her cheek.
The General snickered.
She shot him a look. "Don't laugh at me. I'd like to see you try to eat one of these without dripping all over yourself."
He held out his hand, accepting her challenge. She handed him a peach. He tipped his head back, took a big bite, then wiped his chin with the back of his sleeve. He grinned as he chewed.
"Cheater!" she pointed at him. "It's on your shirt!"
"Come on, Carter, that wasn't part of the rules." He took another arrogant bite, if a bite could be arrogant.
She shook her head. "Alright, Sir, I'll let you have this one."
He smiled as he left.
She continued to unload the groceries.
"Um, Carter," he poked his head back in the kitchen. "Call me Jack."
She turned as he left. "What?" She followed him out. "What?" she repeated.
He stopped a faced her, half eaten peach still in his hand. "What kind of roommate calls their roommate 'Sir?' And don't tell me 'two people who work together.' When we're unloading groceries and eating peaches, call me Jack."
"Okay," she answered, still surprised by his comments, "Jack," she tried the word out. So, she had used it in her head a few times, but it was still weird calling him that.
He smiled and took another bite, "Nice."
- . - Four Months Later
For nothing being on TV, they had both been in front of the TV for a long time. A couple hours, at least. Thank you, satellite television.
Jack glanced over at her and watched her sink a little further into the couch.
Several minutes later she yawned again. This time she sat up and stretched her back. "I'm gonna turn in."
He turned to her, "Okay. Good night."
She leaned over and dropped a quick peck on his lips. She stood and he turned back to the TV.
Carter had just kissed him. He snapped his head over to her. She was standing motionless halfway between the couch and the hall. She slowly turned, eyes about to pop out of her head. He was sure he had a similar expression.
"Did we just?" she asked.
He nodded. "Yeah."
"Ummm . . ."
"Ahhh . . ."
She was shell shocked. "But it was . . ."
"Yeah. Pretty . . ."
She nodded. "Yeah." She paused. "What do we do now?"
He was thinking, but didn't have an answer. She opened her mouth, but didn't have an answer either.
"Let's just play it by ear," he suggested.
She nodded. "Yeah, and we won't rush into anything."
He shook his head. "Yeah. No. No rushing."
They stood there staring awkwardly at each other for a few moments. She pointed to behind her. "I'm gonna go to bed."
He nodded. "Yeah. 'Night."
"Good night," she replied and pretty much rushed down the hall.
He buried his head in his hands. His first - well, not first, but first one that counted - kiss with Samantha Carter and he blew it.
- . -
Well, things had gotten weird. So weird that, after three days, Sam retreated and stayed on the Hammond for a full sixteen days before they went on their deployment. Jack felt bad about it, but he was too weirded out to ask her to come back before she left for three months.
They exchanged emails while she was gone. At the beginning, he could tell she was still as uncomfortable as he was. However, as time passed and her deployment continued, the uncomfortable feelings faded and he seemingly forgot about it.
The taste of her lips haunted his dreams. But that wasn't really new.
She contacted his office by video when the Hammond returned to orbit. The smile on her face showed that she was glad to see him.
"Welcome back, Colonel."
"Thank you, Sir."
"How was your trip?" he asked.
"Productive, but everyone's glad to be home."
"We're all glad to see you guys back."
He got home before she did. So he made dinner. He thought she would enjoy a home cooked meal instead of that slop the ship surely served. When he heard keys in the lock, he checked everything to make sure it wouldn't burn and met her in the entryway.
"Hey there, Stranger," she said with that big Carter smile of hers.
"Hey," he couldn't held but smile back. She dropped her briefcase and her duffle and threw her arms around him. He held her tight and it was no longer an innocent hug. After a moment both their bodies went rigid. "Oh crap," he said.
"It's getting weird again, isn't it?" she asked, carefully removing herself from his arms.
"We just have to stop thinking about it," he said.
They stood staring at each other for a few moments.
"It's not working," she said.
He nodded slowly. "I'm gonna go check on dinner . . . And drink a lot of beer." He started to back away from her.
"Good idea. I'm gonna go unpack."
He nodded as he took another step back and then practically jumped into the kitchen. "Good going, O'Neill," he muttered to himself. "Now you're a complete moron."
Things continued to be weird for the rest of the evening. Jack was trying to ignore it, but was failing. He knew they were going to have to get over it because the Hammond was going to be in orbit for at least eight months.
If he and Carter couldn't get over themselves, it was going to be a long eight months.
- . - Three Weeks Later
Sam was sitting in Jack's Lay-Z-Boy with a book in her hands. She heard Jack walk through the room and to the kitchen. She heard him open the fridge, close the fridge, then open and close several cupboards and then open and close the fridge again. He walked back into the room and stopped.
"I'm in the mood for steak," he announced.
She twisted in the chair, looking up at him. "That sounds great."
"Want to go to that steakhouse that Hammond took us to that one time?" he offered.
"Yes." She inclined the chair and put down her book. She looked down at herself. Jeans and a t-shirt. She found her attire acceptable to be seen in public. "Let me grab my shoes."
- . - Two Months Later
"Carter, you're missing it!" Jack called in a more than juvenile tone.
"Cool it, I'm coming." She rushed in from the kitchen with the bowl of popcorn in her hands. She joined him on the couch, sitting right tight next to him. She held up the bowl as he threw an afghan over their laps.
The opening credits ended and her favorite show started. She smiled and snuggled down into the couch, and Jack, a little. She loved this show.
An hour later, she was snuggled up against Jack with the afghan up over their chests, the empty bowl of popcorn abandoned on the coffee table next to her sock clad feet. His favorite show was going to start in a few minutes.
He flinched with an audible noise from his throat, and reached towards his bad knee.
"What?" she leaned away from him a little.
"My knee just locked up."
She sat up, pulling the afghan around her shoulders. "Turn, I'll massage it out for you."
He shot her a boyish grin. "You'd do that for me?"
"Shut up and give me your leg," she answered with false irritation.
He turned, leaning up against the arm and laid his leg on her lap. She gently massaged his knee. He murmured in discomfort.
"What now?" she asked.
"I'm cold," he said.
She sighed, still using her falsely irritated tone. "Move," she motioned to his knee.
"What? I thought you were going to rub it out for me?" he asked, playing along.
"Not when you're whining like a baby about being cold. Move your leg." He did and she stood, pulling the afghan with her. "Switch sides."
He stared at her, not understanding.
"Switch sides," she repeated.
He shifted around so his sore leg was running along the back of the couch. She sat down in front of him, leaning back against his chest and adjusted the afghan to cover them both. One of his arms slid around her, naturally loose, his hand resting on her thigh. She resumed massaging his knee with one hand.
Sam leaned back into him comfortably, relaxing and watching his show.
When the first commercial set started, he moved beneath her.
"What now?" she asked, a small giggle escaping.
"When did we become a thing?" he asked.
His question caught her off guard. Her hand stilled on his knee and she turned to look at him.
"We are a thing, aren't we? I mean . . ."
She nodded. "I think we are." Her brow furrowed. How did that happen?
"Is that okay?" he asked, trying to read her expression.
She nodded again. "Yeah, it's . . . It's natural."
He nodded in agreement. "That's what I thought."
"What do you want to do?"
He shrugged, "Last time we tried to think about it, it got weird. So, let's just see where it goes."
A grin crept across her face, classic Jack O'Neill logic. "Sounds like a plan to me." She turned back and settled against his chest, and resumed massaging his knee. His arm tightened around her waist a little. She smiled to herself.
How did this happen?
"Quit thinking, Carter, my show's on," he said.
Sam released as small giggle.
Who cares? It's happening now.
- . - A Month Later
It was Friday night. She had just gotten back from an unscheduled underway that had lasted three weeks. She was tired, but glad to be home. She and Jack sat on the couch next to each other, watching the evening news. She yawned, realizing just how tired she was. "I'm beat," she leaned over and placed a peck on Jack's lips. She had gotten up and taken several steps towards the hall before he spoke.
"Wait a minute."
She turned to see the playful smile on his face.
"Try that again," he said, the smirk remaining.
She took a few well placed stepped towards him and leaned in a little, a smile sneaking on and off her face. She placed a hand on the arm of the couch, leaned in and kissed him softly, her lips lingering on his. She pulled back and saw that the smirk on his face had subtly changed.
He shook his head. "Closer . . . But still not quite right" he said in the same soft voice.
"Why don't you try?"
He snaked his hand up behind her neck and brought her lips down to his. Somehow she wasn't surprised by his tenderness, she thought she probably should have been, but she wasn't. The kiss lasted longer than the first two. It was sweeter, as well.
He pulled back with a soft smile.
"I'm not tired anymore," she said, ever so quietly.
His soft gaze held hers, "Neither am I."
- . -
Sam stirred when she felt movement. She was still on her back, as she had fallen asleep and Jack still rested his head on her breast. But he was moving a little. His hands were sliding across her stomach carefully, as if he was trying to locate something by touch. She shifted beneath him, but it didn't seem to bother him, so she moved again.
Tucking one hand behind her head, Sam combed the fingers of her other hand though Jack's hair.
"Morning," he mumbled against her skin, his lips now tracing the patterns of his fingers.
"Morning." She continued to run her fingers through his hair absently as he explored her torso.
She let her eyes drift closed, enjoying what it felt like to be with Jack O'Neill. She felt him pause for a second, then smirk against her skin. "What?" she asked, his smirk tickling her.
He looked up at her with that Jack O'Neill smirk of his. "Just thinking . . ."
She was going to make a crack about him thinking, but decided not to.
His smirk flashed. "Samantha Carter is in my bed. And she's naked," he waggled his eyebrows.
She laughed, nodding. "I can see how that would make you smile."
His brow furrowed in false confusion. "I would think that you could have Samantha Carter naked in your bed any time you wanted."
She rewarded him a soft giggle. "Well, I guess I'll just smile about being naked in Jack O'Neill's bed." She paused to waggle her eyebrows as he did, "With a naked Jack O'Neill."
He nodded in approval. "That is quite an accomplishment, Colonel."
She wrinkled her nose at his use of her rank. "Kinky."
He smiled and wiggled his way up her body. "I could start calling you 'Ma'am.' Won't that be a switch?"
She laughed with him.
His phone rang.
Then both frowned at the device.
"I should ignore that," he said.
"You should," she agreed.
"But I probably shouldn't."
She shook her head. "Probably not."
"It might be important."
She nodded again. "What if it's the President?"
Groaning, he leaned away from her and picked it up. "O'Neill." He rolled onto his back next to her. She rolled into his side, and he put his free arm around her.
Sam could hear the voice on the other side. "Hey, Jack." It was Daniel.
"Do you know why Sam isn't picking up her phone?"
Sam blanched. Her phone was probably on the coffee table where she left it.
"I haven't gotten out of bed yet." That wasn't even a lie.
"Really? Isn't it late for you?"
"It's Saturday. I sleep in now that I'm an old man."
Sam succeeded in suppressing her giggle.
"Isn't it early for you?" Jack asked.
"Actually, I never went to sleep. So, it's a little late for me."
"That's not good for you, Daniel."
"I know," Daniel replied. He sounded as if he was being scolded.
"Do you need to talk to Sam now, or should I just tell her you called when I get up?" Jack asked, trying to end the conversation now that he had deflected Daniel's inquiries.
"It's not urgent. I don't want to wake her."
Jack glanced at her and smiled. "Oh, but you'll wake me up?"
Daniel chuckled. "I like her better."
Daniel chuckled again. "Talk to you later, Jack."
He hung up his phone and placed it back on the nightstand.
"So we're not going to tell him?" Sam asked.
Jack shrugged, rolling her onto her back and taking a position above her. "Maybe later. No rush."
- . - Two Weeks Later
Sam was glad to be home. The Hammond had been on a scheduled underway for the past four days and, for some reason, the she hadn't slept in three days. For some reason, everything that could've gone wrong did. She didn't understand how such a new ship could have so many problems.
She stopped at the front door of her and Jack's place. Duffle in hand, she searched through her pockets for her keys.
"Damn," she muttered to herself. Her keys weren't in pockets.
She dropped her duffle, and knelt on the front step, rifling through her bag. She knew she put them in there. She hadn't left them on The Hammond, she was sure.
The door opened. "Have you misplaced something, Colonel Carter?"
"Teal'c!" She stood and threw her arms around him. He gave her a strong hug in return. She hadn't seen him in . . . She wasn't even sure. Releasing him, she took a full step backward to see his face. "What are you doing here?"
He reached around her and grabbed her abandoned duffle bag, and stood sideways so she could walk past him into the house. "Tomorrow is your birthday, is it not?"
She smiled. "It is. Thank you for remembering."
"I am typically successful when remembering dates."
That was true. The man was practically a day planner. Dropping her duffle in the hall, he followed her into the kitchen where she helped herself to a glass of water.
"Is Daniel here too?" she asked.
"You, as well as I, know that Daniel Jackson would forget Saturday, were it not a weekly occurrence."
Jack stuck his head in the doorway. "Did he do it again?"
Teal'c turned to him.
"Do what?" Sam asked.
"Tell a joke."
Sam nodded. "He did. If we're not careful, he's going to turn into you."
"I assure you, Colonel Carter, that is not a concern."
Jack smirked. "He did it again. I'm contagious."
"Let us hope that is not the case," Teal'c said, picking Sam's bag back up and taking it further into the house.
The three of them had dinner that night and spent that evening filling each other in on the recent goings-on of their lives.
It was getting late, and Teal'c sensing the hour changed the subject. "Where shall I retire?"
Sam and Jack made quick eye contact before turning back to Teal'c. He had known which room had belonged to Sam. They hadn't told him they no longer had separate beds. Teal'c was clever, that was for sure.
Sam stood. "I'll show you."
He picked up his duffle and followed her to the room she and Jack had decided would be Teal'c's. Once she moved all her things into the master bedroom, they decided to decorate the other two rooms for Daniel and Teal'c. They joked with each other that they were like parents keeping their childrens' rooms exactly the same after they went away to college.
Teal'c's room had been decorated in earth tones. The furniture was made from a rough, lightly varnished cherry. Deep red sheets covered the bed with a brown comforter. A wooden rocking chair sat in the corner, with an afghan hanging over the top. An artfully broken pot sat on top of the dresser. Candles stood on dresser, the nightstand, and the small table by the rocking chair. Other that than, the room was bare.
He turned to her with a nod, his arms characteristically clasped behind his back having dropped his duffle. "I approve of the décor."
Sam smiled. "I'm glad you like it." She stood awkwardly for a moment.
"I will bid you good night, Colonel Carter," he said.
"Good night, Teal'c," she turned to leave, but paused at the door. She leaned up against the frame. "Teal'c, are you okay with this?" she asked.
"Should I not be?" he countered, knowing exactly to what she was referring - hers and Jack's relationship.
Her mouth opened to answer, but she didn't have one.
His eyes smiled knowingly. "The expression is: When you're happy, I am happy."
Sam smiled. "Thanks, Teal'c. Good night."
He nodded to her, but remained silent as she left. She frowned as she headed to the room she shared with Jack, now she had to tell Daniel.
- . - The Next Day
"Oh, hey, Sam. I didn't know you were back."
"Yeah, I got back yesterday."
"How'd it go?"
"Fine. Half the ship broke, but . . . I'm used to adversity."
He chuckled, then paused, as if remembering. "Oh! Happy Birthday!"
Sam smiled. "Thank you." Sam thought for a moment. It was now or never. "Hey, Daniel, there is a reason I called."
"Jack and I are together."
"Oh. Tell him I said hello."
Sam shook her head. "Daniel, you're not listening to me."
"Sure I am."
She knew he wasn't. She could hear the distraction in his tone. "Daniel, I need you to put down what you're doing and listen to my words." She reminded herself of her sister-in-law talking to her niece when she was three year old.
"Okay. I'm listening. What's up?"
"Jack and I are together."
Silence. For a moment, Daniel said nothing. "What!? Really?" he asked after several seconds.
A grin broke over Sam's face. "Yeah."
"Wow." There was another pause. "Really? How?"
Sam shrugged. "I don't know. It kind of just happened. I mean, we both just kind of went for it."
"That's great. It's good, right? I mean, things are going well."
Sam bobbed her head in agreement. "Yeah, things are going well."
"I'm happy for you, Sam. I really am."
He paused for a second. "You still love me the most, right?"
She could hear him grinning. "Yes, Daniel," she replied in a pandering tone. "I still love you the most."
"You should, because I suffer from middle child syndrome."
Sam laughed. "Come on, Daniel. If anyone's the middle child, it's Teal'c."
Daniel laughed too. "Yeah, I guess you're right. All the reason to love me the most, I'm the youngest."
Sam shook her head. "Good bye, Daniel."
- . - Weeks Later
Sam and Jack were sprawled over each other on the couch, watching their favorite shows on television. His hand absent mindedly rubbed her thigh.
"This is nice," she said.
"Can't believe we didn't do this years ago," he said.
She smiled at their inside joke. "Let's not dwell."
- . - FIN - . -