Chapter Text
The dandelions were back underfoot now that they'd passed through a checkpoint to a less public section of the base.
“I wasn’t drunk.” Her voice was soft.
“I know.”
“I was alright to drive.”
“I know… I was an idiot.”
Carter shook her head. “Me too.”
—
Jack reached out and took hold of her key ring, his focus on her face. Their fingers mingled. “Let me call you a cab.” It was a request, but it also wasn’t.
She managed a tiny nod. “Okay.” Her keys tinkled as she gave them up.
But he didn’t move, nor did she. They stood inches apart, framed by the archway, blocking each other as unspoken words circled in a holding pattern above their heads. It struck Jack as hopeful that they’d passed into a new century - a new millennium, even - together in his home. It gave him an unfamiliar sense of timelessness as he watched her watching him. They were alone and it felt both terrifying and exhilarating.
Into the silence her voice, barely audible, told him, “You lied earlier."
His brow furrowed.
“The host isn’t exempt.” Her eyes flickered to his mouth, then back to his eyes, electrifying them with all the intensity of a zat blast. She leant forward and pressed her lips to his cheek. The heat of her breath lingered on his skin as she swallowed her fear, then retreated half a step. His hand on her hip stalled her.
The second he tasted her lips, it was game over.
—
As they neared the main admin doors O'Neill heard Carter mutter. “At least, we stopped before things got out of hand.”
He shot her a side-long look steeped in incredulity. As if a court martial would offer them leniency because they hadn’t made it past second base. “Yeah… thank goodness for that .”
—
Spurred on by her encouraging gasp, Jack's hands slipped under her sweater and met soft skin. His mouth reclaimed hers as his fingers explored her soft curves and his thumbs pressed into her hips. They moved as one, lips enmeshed, clothes loosened, hair well and truly dishevelled. Directionless and needy, they stumbled out of the dining room and into his hall. She coaxed him against a wall, rattled his framed photos and - button by frantic button - opened his shirt.
Her nails scratched through his chest hair as she unwrapped him some more, shucking his shirt off his broad shoulders. Her lips formed an awed “Oh, wow,” that stroked his ego before she devoured his mouth. Her fingers drifted lower to hook into his belt and tugged his waistband like a handle.
God, yes. He got the message. Bedroom. Now. Without letting go of her, he guided her down his hall and she went willingly. Backwards and in heels. A real Ginger Rogers move.
—
O'Neill waved Carter through door security first. “What time’r you due in there?”
“1300... you?”
“1230.”
She gasped. “Sir, you’re late !"
He checked his watch, flashed his credentials at the door and followed her through. “You’re early.”
“Ah!” A young officer greeted them in a tornado of hot convected air in the main foyer. “Colonel! Major! Happily met, sirs!” His spindly hand clutched a folder full of documents. He offered them a snappy salute. “I'm Captain Hessan, sirs, Major Dwyer’s assistant. How wonderful you came together.”
Carter cringed at his wording.
O’Neill bit back a groan as he removed his cap and slipped it under his elbow. “Differing opinions about the meaning of ‘on time’, that’s all.”
“Understood, sir. Major Dwyer was called away at short notice. She assigned me your interview in her stead. I have her notes and her questionnaire.” The over-eager captain waved his massive folder in front of them. “Would you follow me, please, sirs. Tea? Coffee?"
"Nothing."
"No thanks."
Captain Hessan ushered his charges into a small, stuffy room on the second floor and offered up two identical, spinny chairs that were situated in front of a well-worn budget desk. A scattering of old filing cabinets lined one wall, and the windows looked out over the water treatment facility. Prime real estate it was not.
Hessan perched on a seat on the other side of the desk and rested a teacup and saucer on the surface. “I didn’t expect to have the opportunity to speak to you both together, sirs. Now we can get a much better impression of your relationship.”
“Our... what ?” Carter looked like she wanted to die.
Hessan opened his folder and spread out his documents. “Didn’t Major Dwyer tell you, ma'am?”
O'Neill spoke before Carter had a chance. Something wasn't adding up. “We’re here , Hessan. What’s this all about?”
“Oh. Well,” the captain sat straighter. “Let me summarise, Colonel, sir. Essentially, Major Dwyer has been tasked with studying the changing face of command within the Air Force. With more women than ever advancing in rank,” he nodded to Carter and offered her an obsequious little head bob, “we’re seeing more and more... mixed gender command structures.” He settled his papers and straightened his pen on his desk top. “When we sent our request to General Hammond, he recommended you both as interview candidates. It seems you're our ‘gold standard’ as it were. The General assured me Deep-Space Telemetry was a stressful department and that you, sir, that is to say, both sirs plural ,“ another little head bob, “could offer valuable insight into inter-gender dynamics.”
Carter’s jaw dropped.
O’Neill managed to limit his shock to a diamond-cutting stare. “Because we…” he trailed off.
“Work well together, sir,” Hessan said.
“As a command team.”
“Just so, sir, yes."
Carter gulped. "And that's all ?"
“Yes, ma’am.”
If relief was a drug, Sam Carter had just mainlined.
Hessan took a breath as he began again. “Regrettably, ma’am, we’ve seen an increasing number of courts martial relating to insubordination, dereliction…” Hessan glanced left and right in the otherwise empty room before mouthing the word ‘ fraternisation’ .” He winced and carried on. “To an extent, the latter is understandable. Fit, healthy people - red-blooded Americans - in close quarters and under heightened stress… it’s a recipe for misconduct. Then add the uniform as an aesthetic component? Well, the effect on some airmen is undeniable.” He reached for his tea and supped loudly.
“Is that so?” O’Neill suppressed a telling grimace.
“As you can imagine, sirs, any insight that a successful, compliant pairing like yours can offer, could prove key to stamping out unacceptable behaviour in your peers, or to choosing pairings better equipped for the changing face of the modern Air Force.”
O’Neill shifted and spared his poor second a quick glance. From what he could tell, she was remembering to breathe. That was good. Maybe she’d start blinking again in a minute or two. “Fire away.”
Hessan looked pleased. He clicked a ballpoint pen and cracked open a fresh notebook. “Perhaps, you could speak a little about how you cultivated your admirable working dynamic with Major Carter, Colonel?”
—
As Sam's back connected with the closed bedroom door, Jack surfaced for a gulp of air. His nosed grazed hers with excruciating care as he told her, “I’ve wanted this ever since-”
“Don’t!” Sam’s fingers tensed against his back. “Don’t say it.”
He examined her expression through a fog of desire and recognised the faint thread of anxiety in her expression. Lust was fine, but if this ever appeared to be more than that, it would become a problem. If he told her how long he’d wanted her, he was certain she’d do the same, and they'd both realise they had been feeling this from the moment their eyes met. It would be impossible to let go in the light of day.
Fine. No words, then.
His expression softened as he kissed her with a tenderness that took their place and she soothed him with feather-light fingertips along his spine. They gentled each other away from the frantic and towards something entirely personal and honest and wordless, each caress expressing what they couldn’t let their voices say. The aching sweetness of it was torture, but he chose to indulge in the beautiful pain while he could. His fingers traced her neck and she sighed into his mouth. His hand followed a warm path across her bare shoulder to the wide neckline of her top. It slipped easily down her arm and he bowed his head to worship her exposed skin.
Sam curled her fingers against his naked shoulders and drew tingling lines across his back. One hand followed the contours of his muscles southwards until they encountered belt loops and leather.
She purred and the soft sound wound its way around his heart. This was perfect. This made up for all the self-denial and all the heartache he’d endured at her side. This was their reward, a tender little respite from the sharp corners and harsh lights of the world they inhabited. It wasn’t fair that they should risk their lives week-in-week-out without the comfort of having something worth risking. Sam was right; the host wasn’t exempt.
But, the colonel was. “We" - dammit - "we shouldn’t be doing this.”
“I know, but I want to anyway.” She melted against him, the feel of her breasts and the press of her fingertips into his muscles almost too much to resist.
He breathed into her skin, her scent exerting a drugging pull on his soul and winding him up like a distaff. Dammit . He could literally have anyone in the world.
Anyone.
Just.
Not.
Her.
“Carter.”
She groaned. Her hand raked into his hair, begging with him to keep going - to kiss, to bite, to take every part of her he wanted. "Jack..." Her other hand tugged at his belt, an equally candid petition.
“We should stop.” Jack had fought many battles in his career, but this was the first one where losing felt like winning. His hands gripped her ribs, fingers splayed across her skin, pulling her closer.
“I know.” Her fingers tightened as her hips pressed against his and pleaded for more.
He groaned deep in his throat. God, this woman would be his undoing. He kissed and nipped and ground her into the door like a man who knew he wouldn’t get a chance like this again and she responded with a strained curse that set him on fire. For the life of him he couldn't remember why this was such a bad idea to begin with. Just this once. Just once. Just them, here, one time, then no more. They could do that, right?
He winced. There was no way they could do that, so eventually, he hesitated, and she slowed in kind and they stilled; a scattered tangle of covetous limbs and unexamined feelings holding them in place.
Their eyes met and the decision was made. They had to back off.
She whispered out their shared regret as their foreheads pressed together. “I’m sorry.”
“Yea.” His thumb travelled in an unbidden arc and grazed the soft edge of her lace bra.
She whined but stood firm with her back against his door. So close.
His fingers trailed across her heated flesh as he let her go, his eyes taking in every stifled reaction he was drawing out of her until they lost contact. His hands emerged from beneath her sweater and his forearms rested on the door either side of her instead. He was panting, his breath mingling with hers in a way he'd hoped other parts of them could, too. “Sam?”
“Hm?”
“Y’...” he licked his lips, the words not coming easily. “Y’gotta let go of my pants.”
“Oh.” She relaxed her hand and let it fall to her side; it seemed the best she could do was cooperate with gravity.
“I’m gonna..." - God, he hated himself right now - "go call you that cab.”
She thunked her head back against his bedroom door, her chest rising and falling rapidly. “Yessir.”
—
Hessan turned to a new page in his notebook and checked his questionnaire. “May I ask how you approach personal problems, ma’am? Disagreements, differences of opinion, hurt feelings?"
Carter sat straighter. “Hurt feelings? We do important work, Captain Hessan. When we focus on that , emotional disagreements, personal issues, they’re not a -a problem. The regulations we swore to uphold exist for a very good reason. Insubordination, dereliction,” Carter’s eyes flicked to her CO, “fraternisation, they all have a damaging effect on our ability to function as a unit. Colonel O’Neill and I work well together. What we do is too important to risk over petty disagreements or… emotional concerns. Sure, we disagree at times, but I trust his experience and his judgement.”
O’Neill winced.
Hessan nodded, absorbed her words at face value and considered his final question. He half-bowed to Carter as he tidied his papers. “Do you have any advice for officers who may struggle with these issues, ma’am?”
Carter turned to look at O’Neill.
He kept silent and watched his second choose her words carefully.
“We all took the same oath," Carter said with admirable control. "You either meant every word, or you didn’t."
—
Jack couldn’t fight the temptation to hold on to their small, perfect make-believe a little longer. He leant in and kissed her one, final time. It was hello and goodbye all at once.
A beep from the street heralded her cab’s arrival.
“Jack…”
“I know.”
—
“There’s nothing more important to either Colonel O’Neill or myself than the safety and security of this nation. The Colonel listens if I have concerns, but ultimately, it’s his call. I respect that because he respects me .”
“Is that a fair assessment, sir?” Hessan looked to O’Neill.
Carter’s eyes flicked to her CO.
“I respect the hell out of her.” He hadn't meant his words to sound so emphatic, but they did.
—
“Next year." Sam's voice was barely a whisper, a wish expressed in thought more than words. "Next year, when this is all over…"
Jack marvelled at her optimism.
"Won’t take long to win this thing, right?”
“Right," he lied. "Piece of cake.”
Sam offered him one last look filled with promise and regret, and then slipped out into the cold night.
Jack watched as her cab’s dim lights retreated slowly down his drive and disappeared, taking his entire happy new year with it.
—
They barely exchanged a word as they left their meeting with Captain Hessan. O’Neill ruminated over the conversation they'd secretly had in front of their guileless interviewer.
They neared the museum, the crosswind buffeting them and insisting he walk closer to her.
They passed the VIP parking lot, his own truck idle and cold within. “I’ll walk you to your car.”
"Thank you, sir."
They approached the hangars, Carter’s car visible in the lot beyond.
“Fancy a late lunch?”
“Sounds good, sir.”
"Commissary, one hour?"
"Yessir."
And again, silence descended, his mind filled with the remembrance of her lips and hands and the tiny, stupid, wonderful infraction that had changed their relationship completely.
The wind encircled Carter as she reached her car and unlocked it. She turned to her CO and held his attention with the bravery of Party Carter. “I... don't regret it.”
His mouth twitched into a momentary smile and his eyes trailed her from hat to heels. “Me neither."
She nodded, licked her lips and accepted this most scant of public declarations. After a last, unguarded glance, she turned and got into her car.
O’Neill watched her reverse out, aiming her tail in a smooth arc around him - backwards and in heels, he noted with a blithe huff - and drive away.
This time he felt hope, though.
After all, if she could run rings around him that easily on land, imagine what she could do in space. The Goa'uld didn't stand a chance.
And suddenly, “Next year” didn’t feel all that impossible after all.