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A full bladder woke Jack early, so he swung his long, bare legs out of the bed and stumbled off to the bathroom. On the way back to bed, he stopped to pull on discarded boxers, and then for good measure, a clean t-shirt, since he had been feeling a little bit cold as well as, uh, exposed.
He had just poked his head through the shirt when a dark pile near the foot of the bed caught his eye. He smoothed the t-shirt down over his torso and then leaned over to pick up the crumpled garment.
The soft, inky dress unfurled in his hands; "silk jersey" she had named the fabric last night. It was a beautiful dress, Jack acknowledged, but not half as beautiful now as when worn by Samantha Carter just hours before. His eyes wandered to the dress-wearer herself, asleep on her side in his big bed, one arm curled by her cheek. Jack watched her breathe and let himself just feel for a moment -- the old, familiar want, mixed with new emotions of joy and thanks and a healthy amount of relief. Finally.
He knew his smile was ridiculous, and if she woke up right now and saw him, she probably would start asking about alien possession. He shook his head at himself and then walked into his closet to hang up the gown. Maybe some of the wrinkles would shake out if it were hanging. He traced the deep V of the neckline down with one finger, reflecting on the events of the previous evening.
How Daniel suddenly got called back to the SGC for emergency translation services.
How Jack was promptly pressed into service escorting Sam to a fancy holiday gala (which she and Daniel were attending to schmooze and bolster support for the program).
How Jack took her to the gala for all of a half hour before sneaking her away to a more intimate dinner.
How they finally let themselves be just "Jack" and "Sam" on a magical first date in a city resplendent in snow and holiday finery.
How Sam asked him if they could have an after-dinner drink. At his house.
How Jack kissed Sam with longing and love harbored over years, and how Sam kissed him back in spades.
Finally.
Movement from the bedroom brought Jack out of his memories. Sam was sitting up in bed regarding him with a solemn expression, one hand holding the sheet up at her neck.
"Hey," he told her softly, "I was just hanging up your dress." He took a few steps out of the closet towards the bed.
"Thank you," she said as he sat down on the bed next to her.
He let his eyes and then his fingers trace the line of her neck down to her shoulder. "You're welcome," he answered with a kiss at the end of her collarbone.
She didn't actually pull away from his touch, just a shift in posture that made Jack lean back and look at her.
"It, uh, it kind of looked like you were also doing some thinking," she went on. "Second thoughts?" Her tone was so carefully neutral, but Jack had known Sam Carter a long time, long enough to hear the insecurity and know not to laugh at the preposterous question.
"Second thoughts?" he repeated back. "About this? Us?" he motioned to the small space between them.
Her nod was tentative.
Before she could react he snatched her sheet covering down and kissed away her sound of protest. Then he maneuvered her back to lie against the pillows. He stretched out beside her and propped his head up on his fist, giving her now-naked torso a slow once-over. "Nope," he told her, "Nary a first thought, let alone second ones."
His wandering eyes made their way back to her face and he watched her smile grow as his words sunk in. Her hands reached out to pull his head to hers. "Good," she murmured against his mouth. "Good."
Finally.
/End