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What Happens Tomorrow
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ADULT

Title: What Happens Tomorrow
Author: Ky (venom69)
Fandom: Stargate SG-1
Rating: ADULT
Summary: Screwed with the timing a bit, because I can. Set post Broca Divide. Because, you know, that hasn't been done before.
Character/Pairing: Sam/Jack
Spoilers: Broca Divide.
Warnings: Sex and language.
Author’s Notes: Song belongs to Liz Phair. Fic written for Amanda, for a few reasons. Some are in here, some aren't.
Disclaimer: Usual guff. Not mine, promise to put them back where I found them.
Date: 27/11/09

***

Here we go,
We're at the beginning.
We haven't fucked yet,
But my head's spinning.
Why can't I breathe,
Whenever I think about you?

***

He was so fucked.

So, so seriously, unequivocally, royally, monumentally and about five hundred other words that she would know but all added up to the same thing; he was fucked.

"I'm fucked." He told Daniel seriously.

Daniel, just a little bit more drunk than he would normally have stomached, eyed Jack with the same amount of seriousness. "You don't look it."

"Not in that way." He snapped. But damn he wished it was 'that' way. "In the bad way."

"Like a dead root?"

"No, not like a dead root." Christ, what had he been thinking giving their resident geek two beers in under an hour? "Like screwed. Like buggered. Like in deep shit. Like halfway up the creek without a paddle."

"Why?"

Ah, there was the question. The one he didn't want to answer. Couldn't answer, technically.

"Because I am."

Smooth.

He was so cool it hurt sometimes.

Heh.

Daniel glared with all the effectiveness of a drunk man about two sips away from declaring his undying love for the universe with some kind of 'bromance' reference. "You think you're so cool, don't you?"

Why yes, he did. "Point?"

"Why don't you just tell her?"

"Tell who, what?"

The eyebrows went up and Jack wondered if Daniel would suffer from motion sickness with the distance they travelled. "You know what I'm talking about."

His beer bottle was really interesting right now. Really. "No, I don't."

"Jack, you beat me up."

"I was drugged!" Not that he needed to be drugged to feel the urge to smack Daniel upside the head a few times. He was beginning to feel that urge now. "It's not like any of us had control over what we did."

"That going to keep you warm at night?"

Well. Fair call.

"You like her, don't you."

It wasn't a question, so Jack didn't answer.

He downed the last of his beer and opened another, the empty bottle joining his steadily-growing collection on the floor by the couch. Eyeing the empty six pack at his feet, he was annoyed at Daniel for being there. For not leaving him to attack a nice bottle of Scotch in peace.

The archaeologist couldn't hold his liquor to save himself and Jack wasn't wasting a 12 year old drop on someone that would vomit it out before it even had a chance to settle. He reasoned that he'd stick to beer until Daniel passed out and then he'd move onto the harder stuff.

He deserved it. Being a Neanderthal was hard work.

Hard.

Bah.

"She's hot."

He wasn't going to leave that one alone, much as he knew he should. "Excuse me?"

"Sam. Samantha."

Jack was going to kick his ass if he ever said her name like that again, no questions asked.

"Why not just tell her?" Daniel didn't appear to understand his silent death threats. "Before someone else gets in there."

Jack liked to think that Daniel's statement, and double meaning, were accidental. He wasn't sure, especially since his balls had suddenly decided that getting in there would be really, really cool. But surely Daniel didn't think of her that way, did he?

He was married, he was grieving, he probably had the hots for a three thousand year old rock more so than his teammate.

Right?

Right.

"I'm her boss, Daniel." Which, sadly, pretty much ensured that it was against the law for him to call her into his office and order he to use her mouth for something other than confusing him.

Not that he hadn't had that thought before, either.

Gulp.

"You're not going to ask her to marry you, who has to know if you..." Daniel waived his hand meaningfully and Jack knew he wasn't going to like the rest of that sentence. "...bump uglies, do the wild thing, get down and dirty..."

He was so not in the right frame of mind to be listening to Daniel offer up all of the different possibilities of what he could do with Carter. He knew damn well what he could do with her; and that was his problem. "Thanks Daniel."

"...go wild, turn loose, get freaky..."

Freaky?

Well, maybe if the AF arrested him partway through... "Thank you, Daniel."

"...bang, screw, get jiggy with it..."

Jiggy? What was he, fifteen? "Got it, Daniel. Thanks."

"...do the horizontal mambo..."

Subtelty was not that man's strong point. Nor was it Jack's. "Shut the hell up!"

Daniel blinked stupidly, but silently.

Jack was so The Man.

"I'm going to pee." He announced, with all the authority a Colonel should use, even when discussing the workings of his bladder. "Try and stay out of trouble."

***

In hindsight, it was the 'friendly warning' that probably gave Daniel the idea in the first place.

Jack had gone to the bathroom, peed, washed his hands while appreciating his own epicness in the bathroom mirror and walked back into the living room to see Daniel drunkenly dialling numbers on his cell phone.

Which wouldn't have been so bad if the younger man hadn't fairly wet himself when he saw Jack.

"Hi!" He waved, enthusiastically.

Jack eyed him. "What did you do?"

"Nothing!"

"Nothing?"

"Not a thing." Daniel confirmed. "I should head home, though."

Jack probably had a date with his right hand tonight, so he didn't really mind the early departure, but... "That's sudden."

"Oh, you know, I'm tired. It's been a long week."

Didn't he know it. "Why do I get the feeling it's only going to get longer?"

"No idea." Daniel looked as innocent as he could while being totally guilty. "Beer's gone right to my head, though."

"It usually does."

Daniel didn't respond, picking up his jacket and keys. "I'll pick my car up tomorrow. I called a cab."

Jack was kind of impressed that he'd been able to remember the number.

"Call me when you get up in the morning?" He finished.

"You want to hear from me at 6 am?"

Daniel made a disgusted face at the mention of such an early hour. "Hammond gave us a week off, you should sleep in."

Sleeping in would probably mean more time to dream and Jack was trying really, really hard not to let his subconscious mind come out to play.

A horn sounded from outside the house and Daniel jumped to his feet and was at the door before Jack had bothered to formulate a response.

"That's me. Have a good night, Jack."

Jack watched him go, shaking his head as he moved into the kitchen to start his evening with a bottle of something more potent than the beer. His liquor collection looked rather dismal, but he supposed that was one of the downfalls of not being on Earth half the time. Not that he minded, really. It was a pretty cool gig, all in all.

But were the mission that seemed to end up with him dreaming about his 2IC really necessary?

He thought not.

It had been the second mission to Abydos that had started it. She'd been all blue eyes and legs up to her armpits when she strolled into the briefing. And his insides had done a happy dance while they'd bantered. When she'd offered an arm wrestle, he'd almost had a premature stroke with the hormones racing through his body.

And he'd told her that he adored her.

Which wasn't enough of a lie for Jack's liking.

He took a swig of the bottle in his hand.

Then it had been Kowalski. Christ, that sucked. He'd lost his best friend to a snake, the base had lost three personnel, he'd almost lost his new second, and Jack had been left with a sinking feeling in his gut that told him he cared more about the possibility of losing her than he wanted to admit.

And then the dress. The dress. Ugliest creation known to man but, holy hell, it'd done wonders for her chest. Actually, her chest had probably been that fantastic for a while, but it had certainly accentuated the fantasticness for his pervy eyes.

She'd been kidnapped - Carternapped. Heh. - and his stomach had, again, gone straight for his shoes. Jack knew he was in deep shit when he'd heard that Turghan would 'partake' of his newest purchase if they didn't get her back. His immediate response had been that the only one who would partake in her would be, well, him, but there wasn't a chance in hell of that happening.

Of course, not more than three days after he'd had that thought - and subsequently watched her kick Turghan’s ass - she'd barged into the locker room and tried to seduce him.

Talk about a hell of a few months.

The doorbell went and Jack assumed that Daniel had left something behind, his mind still going ten to the dozen.

She'd tried to seduce him.

Freakin' seduce him, for God's sake.

He'd been the proverbial saint. He hadn't taken any clothing off, hadn't tried to get his jollies when it had seemed like there was something terribly - and wonderfully, god, - wrong with her. Okay, he'd kissed her back a little bit. And he'd pushed his groin into hers when they'd fallen off the bench and he'd found himself pressing her to the ground while she arched into his body.

She'd been wild and hot and determined.

And now she was at his front door.

What the fuck?

Daniel. Of course. Asshole.

"Carter."

"Hi sir." She smiled, a little uncomfortable. She looked casual in the blue jeans and white t-shirt, but her back was ramrod straight. "Are you okay?"

"Fine, why?"

"Daniel called and said you needed help with something."

Of course he did. "Daniel was drunk."

"Oh."

Was she disappointed? Or just confused? "So..."

"So?"

He didn't really have anything to say to her. At least, nothing that would end well. Last time he'd seen her, he'd been making jokes about tank tops and scars before he'd high-tailed it out of the base in the hopes of getting drunk and, if he got desperate enough, he could have some quality time with his hand and his imagination over the blonde angel currently on his front porch, not saying anything.

Damnit, this was awkward as fuck.

Carter blinked. "Why awkward?"

He'd said that aloud? Shit. "Uh..." What could he say to that?

"Is this because of the," she flushed sweetly and if he didn't know her, he would've missed the slight stutter that came out with her words, "virus?"

"No! No." He sighed. It so was. "Of course not."

"Sir, may I come in?"

Right. Manners. He had them, sometimes. "Sure. Beer?"

"No thanks."

"Scotch?"

She looked almost tempted. Which was kinda scary. "No thanks."

"Seat?"

"Sure." Perched on the edge of his sofa, where Daniel had been not an hour ago, she frowned at him. "You remember, don't you, sir?"

"I remember a lot of things, Carter."

"I mean the locker room."

He could've gone in circles with her on that one - 'What locker room?' 'The locker room, sir' 'Narrow that down for me Carter, there are a few on base.' - but he just didn't have the energy. "Yeah."

She was chewing her bottom lip, something Jack hadn't seen her do before. "Why'd you lie?"

He shrugged. "Figured it would be easier."

"For who?"

Well, for his disturbingly frequent erections around her, for one. "Everyone."

"It's not like we had control over what happened." She defended automatically.

"That's what I told Daniel, too." He wasn't going to ask what the other man had said when he'd called. Except, he really wanted to know. And he didn't really have anything else to say that didn't involve an order that left her naked. Oh, hell. "What'd he say when he called you?"

"Something about hot things and horizontal jiggy's." She looked somewhat amused. "Any idea what he was on about?"

"Sadly yes."

"Would you like to enlighten me?"

He closed his eyes to stop the room spinning, but instead an image of her doing a horizontal jiggy jumped into his mind and it was all he could do not to squeal like a three year old. Or blow in his shorts like a thirteen year old. "I would really rather not."

She cocked her head to the side, confused. It was an oddity for her and he was kind of proud that he caused it. "Are you, uh... mad at me, sir?"

Huh? "What?"

"For what happened," She clarified in a rush, "With the... virus."

He was glad she didn't say when she'd tried to fuck his brains out. He wouldn't have been able to stand that coming out of her mouth. "No, Carter. As you said, no control."

"Then what's the problem?"

"There is no problem."

"Then why are you having a hard time making eye contact with me? And why did Daniel call me telling me that you had... issues..."

"I have a few." He offered.

She didn't pause. "...with what happened between us?"

Jack found himself shrugging in lieu of answering.

Carter sat, stared at her hands and sighed.

With her eyes downcast, he couldn't help but watch her. He'd been doing it since she walked into the SGC and turned his world upside down. The silence made him uncomfortable and he found himself glaring at her, perhaps unfairly, his voice making her gaze snap back to his.

"Carter, this conversation could ruin your career." He warned sternly.

"We're only talking." She shot back.

"For now." He muttered, not really certain that she hadn't heard the words. He had to end this now, before he did something stupid and screwed up the only good things he currently had in life. When, exactly, had her friendship become one of those? "Captain, I think you should go."

"Why?"

"You mean 'why, sir.'"

"I meant what I said." She snapped back hotly.

God, she was too damn gorgeous for words.

"Samantha," her name was more of a sigh than anything else and he knew he was getting himself into some seriously deep shit right now. "Why did you come here?"

She frowned, maybe at the use of her full name, maybe at the question. "Daniel said..."

"Yes, I know what he said. But why did you come?"

She chewed her bottom lip again and it almost disturbed him how hot that was. "I wanted to. I didn't want there to be anything unresolved between us."

He shrugged easily as he sat in the armchair across from her, relaxed. "Why would there be?"

He was smooth. He was cool. He was The Man.

"I tried to mate with you, sir. I would have thought that might have impacted the team."

Holy fuck!

Hearing her say it made it sound so, so much dirtier. And Jack didn't think he needed any help in that department, at least not where she was concerned.

"I just..." Her anger dissipated and she sighed heavily, looking down. "I can't stop thinking about it."

The admission was brave, especially when she had everything to lose and very little to gain right now. Jack gave her props for that, if nothing else.

"Why 'not like that'?" She asked, her voice quiet.

Jack had seen this one coming. Didn't mean he was any more prepared to answer. Though he was almost grateful that he didn't have to respond to her admission, this avenue probably wasn't any safer for them, either.

He wasn't in love with her. That was his only saving grace. But it was quickly overshadowed by the fact that he knew it wouldn't take much more for him to get there and that scared the proverbial crap out of him. Was that why he hadn't wanted it 'that' way? Because she deserved better?

Or was it a selfish part of him that didn't want it to happen in the middle of the locker room with people milling about not twenty feet from them? Maybe he really did have morals and he'd known she wasn't in her right frame of mind at that point. Certainly in no position to make a decision like sleeping with her CO.

"Sir?"

...Or maybe he just didn't want to be the submissive one in their encounter and that was what had held him back.

After all, her harsh kisses and rough groping had certainly gotten his attention, but he hadn't fully hardened until they'd rolled off the bench and onto the floor, his weight pinning her supple body. Christ, thinking about it was making his cock stir.

He was such a perverted old man sometimes.

Which might not have been a bad thing if she was anyone other than who she really was.

She was staring at him expectantly, her eyes darting around his face and not quite meeting his. A few lies filtered through Jack's brain, but he couldn't bring himself to spit them out and she deserved better than a pitiful excuse that even he wouldn't believe. "I don't know."

"Oh."

When had he become the underdog in this? He turned the tables. "What made you come after me?"

"The virus-"

"Why me?"

She met his eyes, then. And, with however many degrees she had and however high an IQ he knew was in that pretty little head of hers, not to mention all of her highly specialized training, she shrugged slightly and gave her eloquent reply of, "Because."

They weren't going to have this discussion at the rate they were going. Nothing would be resolved and everything would remain unsaid. Which would be fine, until the next time he stupidly invited Daniel over to his place for a beer and a bitch session. Not that he'd call it that aloud, of course.

Jack held her gaze, wanting to taunt her about her brilliant answer to his question, but he hadn't been able to offer anything much better and he could remember a vague adage about glass houses and stones.

Resignation and the knowledge that they weren't solving anything gave him the thought. Determination - and, perhaps a little help from his amber friend in a bottle - made him act. Stupidity and hormones fuelled him on. He didn't know what made her so malleable to his idea, but he didn't really give her a chance to explain or protest.

Two quick seconds and he was out of the chair, fairly vaulting around the coffee table and his hands held her face tightly, lowering his mouth to hers. He pushed his body onto hers, using his superior weight to push and turn her until they were slumped on the sofa. Her legs opened to allow his body to settle between them and Jack fought the urge to moan, just as he had in the locker room.

It was different this time, he could feel it. Her mouth was soft against him, lips pliant under his as he tasted her. Her hands gripped his sides tightly, but she didn't try and take control. She was hungrily kissing him in response, but she wasn't trying to own him, claim him, mark him, make him hers.

He had a bit of an inkling that he already was, anyway.

It wasn't completely lost on Jack that she'd fallen into the silent, submissive little woman that he was fairly certain she wasn't, but it was also damn hot. Automatically, she responded to him, her body moving to accommodate his. One leg dangled off the side of the couch, the other pressed against the back, allowing his body room to press into her. She accepted everything his kiss offered and Jack couldn't help but be overwhelmed by the thoughts and sensations and, oh god, feelings that came from just kissing her.

If he'd been anything close to drunk before, then touching lips with her was the quickest sobering agent he'd ever encountered, his mind now working with frightening clarity.

He pulled back, if only to save his own sanity from the sensations and the thoughts. Looking down at her flushed face to be confronted with pink swollen lips and wide eyes didn't help his unbalanced state of mind any. "Samantha."

She stared at him, silent.

"This is why you should go."

"No." Her voice was quiet, but firm.

There was a rather poignant part of Jack's anatomy that didn't want to argue the point. Letting that part of his body think for him hadn't done him an favours in the past and he doubted that had changed any now.

Even still...

"Samantha." He was desperately trying to do the right thing, for them both, but more so her. Either she didn't get it or she really didn't care.

"No."

So, the latter, then.

Jack had every good intention of arguing his case - with more than just her damn name as a defence - but then he looked down and realized that their bodies were flush against each other and it sure as hell wasn't a tube sock that he was pressing into her warm crotch. While she pushed back, incidentally.

Apparently that made the decision for him. He slid off the couch with absolutely zero poise and hit the carpet with his knees loudly. Flinching against the rough landing, Jack stopped caring when his hands went to the button and zipper on her jeans and she did nothing to resemble a protest to stop him from undoing them and pulling the fabric down her long legs.

The black panties were nice, but he wasn't terribly interested in them and they came down with the denim. It wasn't particularly dignified, but Jack stripped the garments off one leg and let them dangle from her other. He wasn't interested in being sweet and romantic and he didn't care where her clothes went as long as they weren't in the way.

"Sir." It was stupidly hot to hear that come from her mouth while she was lying like that.

He tried to meet her eyes, but there was too much emotion there and he turned his attention back to the apex of her thighs. With the same finesse used in the removal of her pants, he grasped her knees, pulled her legs apart as far as she seemed comfortable with, bent over and buried his face between her thighs.

Jack tongued her clit roughly, sucking the bud into his mouth and humming with the feeling. His hands moved to her folds, holding her open for his demanding tongue as he moved to the soft tissue at her opening, pressing into her, drinking in the obedience her body offered freely.

It wasn't about her, wasn't about her pleasure or her satisfaction, they were fairly incidental. It was more about him, his own hunger, his own need. That burning urge to know what she tasted like, know how easy it was to have her wet and ready and gasping.

"Sir." She was panting heavily, so close so quickly. It didn't bother Jack; he wasn't far behind her. "God. Sir."

The tight press of the waistband of his shorts against the swollen head of his cock made the words from her that much more unbearable. Jack considered finishing her like this, letting her come on his mouth, open and exposed. But his own needs were more demanding than the desire to dominate her like that and he pulled himself up on his knees again, undoing his fly in record speed.

He made an unintelligible sound when he held his dick firmly, rubbing the head against her clit. She was biting her lip, still breathing heavily as he moved against her.

Jack wanted to go slow. It was his every intention, if only so he could savour the feeling. But his body - and, specifically, his balls - weren't up for that plan and, with one deep thrust, he found himself buried to the hilt in the sweet lithe body of his Second.

Jesus.

There was no sign of pain on her face and, even if there had been, he lamented that he mightn't have had the self control to stop long enough for her to adjust. As it was he was barely restrained when he pulled out of her tight heat, thrusting back into her with sharp movements. His hands gripped her hips, hard enough to bruise and mark her.

She made the sweetest sounds he'd ever heard; soft cries and whimpers coming from her on every inward thrust. She pushed her hips back against his, taking what he gave, her body welcoming him hotly.

It was heaven and hell all wrapped up in sin. Everything he shouldn't want, especially this much. Trying to force himself to ignore the twinge he could feel in his mostly-dead heart, Jack focussed his intention on the vocal woman beneath him.

She made for quite the sight with her t-shirt still on, clinging to her heated flesh, but it was still unbelievably erotic. Jack didn't give thought to his own shirt. His lower body was quite content and he didn't give much consideration to anything other than the feeling of being sheathed in her sweet cunt.

"Samantha." He shouldn't say her name, that only made it more real, more intense, more meaningful, more them. "You're so sweet."

She didn't respond with anything more than the sound of her breath hitching on the back of a cry, but damn it was the best answer he'd heard all night. Her hands gripped his sides even harder, leaving bruises of her own. Jack should have cared, but he really didn't.

Their bodies moved harshly against each other, rocking and moving desperately. Jack wasn't far off losing his mind and the only coherent thing he could think was that he needed her to come, needed to see her fall to pieces on his hard flesh.

Moving his right hand to the hem of her damp shirt, he pulled the material up, not caring that he bunched it just over her breasts, encased in a plain cotton bra. Her nipples strained against the fabric and he just really, really needed to have his mouth around one, but he couldn't stop the thrusting of his hips long enough to do anything about it. He noted the small gauze that covered her wound and tried to angle his stomach away from rubbing against it.

Pulling her hands away from his sides, she moved them to the valley between her breasts and Jack watched her snap the clip undone. Front-closure. That was why she was the brains of their outfit.

He groaned his thanks around one of her pink nipples, sucking and nibbling for his own pleasure as much as hers. One hand went to her neglected breast, the other moved to her clit and Jack gave her a very thorough demonstration that he could pat his head and rub his stomach, thank you very much.

She squealed sharply at the first touch to her clit, her legs going rigid around his hips. She held his body tightly, but it didn't stop the movement of his hips or his mouth, pushing and pulling and thrusting.

"Sir." It came out on a sob and she came right after, a keening cry that turned into something akin to a primal grunt towards the end, her back arched right up, pushing herself into him as much as possible.

Watching her lost it, Jack couldn't stop the flood of pleasure that washed over him, crawling down his spine and up his balls before he was chocking out a moan and grinding his pelvis right into her as he emptied himself in her body.

"We are so screwed."

She said it no more than two minutes later. He was still trying to catch his breath and convince his brain to work towards something more articulate than guhhhhhhh, so he didn't argue the point.

"So, so seriously, unequivocally, royally, monumentally and about five hundred other words that all add up to the same thing; we are screwed."

Yes, they were. Quite well done, he'd thought. But perhaps not what she'd meant. "I don't think I've ever heard you swear before."

"That's all you can say?"

Apparently her orgasm had made her brain work again. He, on the other hand... "Pretty much."

"Sir!"

He shrugged, finally pulling away from her warmth, not quite sure if it was pathetic how much he hated the movement or not. Her breast still showed the evidence of his mouth, so did her thighs. She was possibly the hottest he'd ever seen her, right then. "Why are you so uptight?"

"Do you realize what we just did?"

Pulling his shorts back into place, Jack shrugged again, desperately ignoring his sticky cock and the lingering smell of them in the room. "It's not the end of the world. In fact, I'm willing to bet we're not the first ones to have ever done that."

She rolled her eyes. "You're a smartass."

"You're insubordinate." He countered.

She snorted, indignant. "You can have them add that to my list of charges."

Jack did his best not to ogle her while she pulled her underwear and jeans back on. "Do you normally discuss your sex life with Hammond?"

She gave him a look. A very significant one at that. "No."

"So, you've got plans to give him an update on this?"

She chewed her lip again, and it looked much more sinful now that he'd heard her come. "Well, no." She finally admitted.

"Then try to relax."

Nodding, she smoothed her palms against her thighs, once again not meeting his eyes. He moved from his position on the floor to sit beside her, far too aware of the slight wet spot that was currently staining the upholstery.

Jack watched her for a few moments, enjoying the silence. It wasn't the post-orgasming snuggle it could have been, not the deep and meaningful pillow talk - and it sure as hell wasn't the post hot-mind-blowing-sex sleeping that his body craved - but it was all that he'd hoped for and more than he deserved that she wasn't kicking his ass ala the Shavadai planet so he wasn't sure he should push his luck.

"So, what now?" She finally asked, bringing him out of his daydream involving knives and detrimental actions surrounding his genitals.

"Up to you." It probably wasn't fair to throw the ball into her court like that.

Actually, he silently conceded, it was probably the chickenshit thing to do. But he hadn't been fooling himself when he'd thought that she had much more to lose. She did. Plus, he didn't actually know if she had anything resembling feelings for him or if she'd just tried to bang him because the virus had sent her to the highest person up in the food chain she could find.

What if she'd found Hammond first?

Shudder.

Whole different conversation, that.

"That's unfair, sir."

"Date me or dump me, but at least call me Jack." It was light-hearted enough, but Jack had a feeling she could see straight through it.

She didn’t comment. "Are they the options?"

Well... kinda. "Got any better suggestions?"

"Neither are particularly appealing." She admitted.

Jack wasn't sure how he felt about that, so he said nothing, longingly eyeing the scotch bottle by the armchair. He could use a swig or four right about now.

"I suppose we could just... see what happens." She shrugged uncertainly.

"Carter." He sighed.

"What happened to Samantha?" Jack offered a shrug in reply. "I like the way you say my name, Jack."

Another admission. She was certainly braver than he was, tonight. So much for Dutch courage. Not that he needed it. Hearing his name come from her mouth was pretty much a moment of profoundness. He found himself remembering how cool he'd known himself to be earlier.

That feeling was coming back with a vengeance.

He grinned.

Stupidly, but he grinned. Partially because it was all ridiculous and partly because he was over the deep and meaningful side of the evening and more interested in finding out if she hogged the blankets when she slept or not.

Crap, when had he fallen that hard?

More to the point, had she? "Not to be too nit-picky, but what exactly does 'seeing what happens' entail?"

"Uh, I guess it means waiting... and seeing... what happens." It was lame and she knew it, cringing even as she spoke. "I don't know. I'm a little out of my depth here, sir."

He didn't comment on the salutation. "Can't say I'm a regular at this either, Samantha."

"That's nice to know." She offered a weak smile. She took a deep breath and Jack unconsciously steadied himself for the verbal blow he knew was about to come. "Look, Jack, my brain is a little mushy right now. I'm tired and my stomach still hurts from the wound. I have no clue what we should do and I admit it."

"We could sleep." He offered, wary of a potential meaning hidden behind her words. He couldn't find any, though, and she didn't strike him as the type to play word games like some of the women he'd known.

She looked relieved. "That sounds really great, actually."

He nodded and that seemed to be the end of it.

She'd never been in his house before, but she poked her head into enough rooms to find the bathroom and master bedroom, disappearing into the bathroom to get ready for bed.

Jack quickly turned the lights out, locking the front door - a rarity but necessity if Daniel showed up unexpectedly - before he made his way to the bedroom and flicked the lamp on. He didn't ask which side she would prefer, he knew it wouldn't matter to either of them. She wasn't fussy like that.

Stripping down, he moved to the ensuite and cleaned himself of their stickiness. Pulling on a pair of Homer boxers - if she stuck around, she'd see them eventually, might as well be up front, he figured - he made his way back into the bedroom and crawled onto the side of the bed closest to the door.

She wandered in a few moments after, wearing just her t-shirt and panties. She moved around to her side of the bed and shed her shirt before crawling under the blanket.

His heart almost hurt with how nice it was to have her there and, for the final time that night, he silently bowed to himself with the reassurance that he was The Man, before he smiled softly at her. "Goodnight, Samantha."

She settled herself against him, not quite cuddled in because that never really worked for sleeping, but close enough to feel the heat and the security of another person. "Goodnight, Jack."

Her breast touched his forearm and as tempted as he was to do something about that, he decided it would be a better wake up call after a few hours of sleep. With a grin, he turned out the light and figured they'd see what happened in the morning.

***

Done.

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