Reaching up, O'Neill rang the doorbell to Major Samantha Carter's home, then stuffed his hands deep into the pockets of his khaki slacks, rocking back and forth on his feet. Toe... heel ... toe ... heel ... toe ... flat. She still hadn't answered. Furrowing his brow, he withdrew his left hand, testing the doorknob. The furrow in his brow deepened when he found it unlocked.
"Carter?" he called, poking his head inside the door. Still no answer. Cautiously he stepped inside. "Major?"
"In here!" cane a muffled shout.
The colonel gave his usual expression of confusion, his eyes wrinkling at the corners. "In where?"
"The bathroom!"
"What are you doing in there? We're supposed to meet—" He strode down the short corridor, coming to an abrupt halt as he rounded the corner. The linoleum-tiled bathroom floor shoen with a thin layer of water, broken only by the placement of a wrench, pliers, and a phillips head screwdriver; looking down, he saw that the tan carpet beneath his feet was now brown, soaked with overflow. He looked to Sam, raising his brows. "Problems?"
Sam looked up at him, wiping at her forehead with the back of her hand, a pair of pliers grasped in it. Still clad in her camouflage BDUs, the pants, tucked neatly into her issue-boots, were soaked. She blew upward at a stray lock of blonde hair and plopped onto the side of the tub. "Three degrees in astrophysics and I can't fix a clogged toilet."
"Well, from the looks of things, you should have studied marine engineering," he quipped. He stepped across the bathroom, taking her by the hand and helping her to her feet.
Sam chuckled. "You should have seen it before I managed to get the water turned off; it was a regular Old Faithful." She dusted herself off, setting aside the pair of pliers. "I guess I should get cleaned up ... "
"Eh, grab your clothes for dinner, and I'll let you borrow my bathroom," O'Neill said. He looked over the mess. "We'll call in the Coast Guard from my place."
With a sigh, Sam looked over the mess. She definitely didn't feel like dealing with it—especially since they were due to meet Daniel and Teal'c at O'Malley's in half an hour. "All right. I'll grab my things."
O'Neill watched as she disappeared into the next room. Pausing a moment, he looked over the soaked floor. "Maybe a towel..." He opened the cabinet beneath the sink, withdrawing a bathtowel. Unfolding it, he spread it across the floor; it became soaked the moment it made contact. "...or two..."
Within moments, the floor was a mosaic of wet, colorful towels.
"Colonel, do you think—" Sam stopped in midsentence, seeing the floor full of twels and O'Neill standing in the center of them. The brow over her right eye arched. "Holding your fingers in the dam, sir?"
O'Neill shrugged. "When in Amsterdam..." He gave a boyish grin, then gestured toward the door. "C'mon, let's get out of here before people start to wonder."
***
Daniel Jackson took a swig from the brown, longneck bottle, glancing about the room. With a slight smile, he recalled the last time he, Carter, and O'Neill had visited three long months ago. The place had cleaned up nicely, he thought. And, after three months, he was in need of a good steak.
Beside him, Teal'c observed the room with his usual passive expression, his face devoid of emotion. His brow raised beneath the brim of his grey fedora, however, as he looked to the clock. "Is it not past our meeting time?"
"What?" Daniel looked up to the shamrock-shaped, green, neon clock above the bar, noting the time. Sam and O'Neill were thirty minutes late. He knew Sam could be slow sometimes, but... Maybe he should call?
***
Twisting his wrist, O'Neill glanced at his watch, speeding down the mountain on the empty two-lane road. He and Carter were already thirty minutes late, with another ten left in travel time. //At this rate,// he thought, //Daniel and Teal'c should at least have a table...//
***
Frowning, Daniel replaced the receiver onto the base. He looked up as the bartender grasped the phone, placing it back under the bar. "Thanks," he said distractedly, turning back to the table. Weaving his way through the room, he slid back into his chair. "Well, they're not at Sam's, and there's no answer at Jack's."
"Perhaps they are already en route," Teal'c offered. He sat with his fingers interlaced on the table.
"Maybe," Daniel replied. He took a thoughtful sip of his beer.
***
Sam glanced at her watch and grimaced. Even before she started, she knew she should have waited to fix the clog, but she hated to leave a task unfinished. Then, having to travel back to O'Neill's, then back toward town—her shower alone had cost them a good fifteen minutes of travel time. She ran her hand through her still-damp hair as it stirred in the breeze. //There is something to be said about a regulation hair cut,// she thought.
Her eyes drifted from the open window to O'Neill as he sat in the driver's seat, his concentration on the road. The little lines at the corner of his right eye were lightly defined, even in the light from the dashboard; he hated being late. She watched as he flipped his wrist, glancing at his watch. "I'm sorry, sir… next time I decide to start something, I'll make sure I have time to finish it."
"Don't worry about it," O'Neill replied. "Any other time, you'd be waiting on me." He looked over at her quickly, with a smile, then focussed back on the road. "I think we can forgive one slip-up."
"I only get one?" Sam questioned.
"Yep. That's all ya get."
"Gee, thanks." Carter chuckled, shaking her head.
"Well, unless there are other mitigating circumstances..."
"*Other* mitigating circumstances? Oh, this should be good."
O'Neill looked to Carter, a lopsided grin tugging at the corner of his mouth, his eyes glinting with mischief. He noted her arched brow, the way she had folded her arms across her chest. He had gotten her attention, at least. "Defined on a case-by-case basis," he replied.
Sam turned, looking out the windshield as they made a right turn into O'Malley's parking lot. She then looked to O'Neill, continuing to watch him as he braked to a halt, threw the gears into "park," and switched off the igntion. "Well?"
O'Neill grinned. "Deep subject."
"Colonel!"
"C'mon, Carter, let me buy you a steak," O'Neill said, climbing out of the vehicle. Without waiting for Sam to respond, he closed the door.
Sam couldn't help feeling there was something she had missed.
***
"I think I'd better go call the base," Daniel said, pushing himself to his feet. As he did so, the beveled glass-and-oak door opened; he watched as Carter and O'Neill entered. "Nevermind." He watched as O'Neill and Carter paused just inside the door, searching out he and Teal'c. After a moment, he made eye contact with O'Neill. He continued to watch as O'Neill, his hand at the small of Sam's back, guided them through the room.
"We were beginning to become concerned," Teal'c commented, looking up as the two approached.
"Concerned is better than curious," O'Neill replied. He held out a chair for Carter, then seated himself.
"Everyone decide what they want?"
"Yeah, anything but the ribeye," Daniel replied, distractedly. He plowed through to his next sentence. "What took you so long?"
O'Neill glanced at Daniel over the top of his menu. "Oh, Sam was on a fishing expedition," he answered. He looked back down at the menu.
"And *he* was redecorating my bathroom." Carter shook her head, recalling the image of O'Neill in the midst of all those wet towels in her bathroom floor. She looked to Daniel, seeing the questions forming before the scientist could get them out. "I babysat my neighbor's son this evening, and he decided to send his ball to meet my septic tank. Unforunately, the ball never made it, and I now have a lake in my bathroom floor." She looked to the colonel. "Don't let me forget to get my BDUs out of the washing machine; I haven't picked up my cleaning this week, so I'm down to two pair."
Daniel merely blinked. Sam? O'Neill had just called her Sam? His brow furrowed. This wasn't entirely unusual, he reasoned, but it was certainly odd.
"Don't worry, Major, I don't think they're my size." O'Neill flagged down a waitress, oblivious to Daniel's confused expression.
Leaning over to Teal'c, Daniel lowered his voice as he spoke. "Did we miss something?"
Teal'c furrowed his brow, regarding Daniel. He still sat up straight, his fingers still intertwined as his hands rested on the tabletop. "What do you mean?"
"Doesn't something seem... different... somehow?"
"Yes. The lighting above the pool table seems to be too high to accomplish it's goal," Teal'c answered. The lumbering Jaffa avoided DanielJackson's question with feigned ignorance. He looked to Daniel. "Is that not what you were referring to?"
Daniel shook his head. "Nevermind, Teal'c." He looked up as the waitress approached. "Let's just eat."
***
Jack O'Neill tossed his napkin onto the empty plate with a sigh. "I think that's probably the best steak I've ever had," he said. He interlaced his fingers behind his head, regarding the rest of SG-1. "Anyone up for dessert?"
Daniel looked to him, brows raised. A similarly empty plate sat before him, three or four french fries scattered across the plate. "You're joking, right?"
"Of course he's joking." Cutting O'Neill a sideways glance, Carter reached over and grabbed his forearm, pulling it straight out before her. "No, no armband. He'd better be joking. I'll never pass the PRT at this rate." She folded his arm at the elbow, allowing him to rejoin his fingers behind his head.
"Thank you," he said. He looked down at his plate. "That was a long three months." His attention diverted to Teal'c. "What did you think, Teal'c?"
"It was... edible." Teal'c turned to O'Neill, his expression daring the colonel to argue.
"Ahhh, high praise from Teal'c," O'Neill replied. He reached down and took the last swig of his beer as the live band behind him keyed up.
Carter turned, watching the musicians on the make-shift stage as they went through pre-performance routines of tuning, checking the microphones, and tightening the heads on the drums. "That's new."
"Must be a new addition over the last three months," Daniel commented. He leant back, watching, folding his arms across his chest. As he watched, O'Malley's hostess, Katherine O'Malley, crossed to take a place at the front microphone.
Katherine O'Malley readjusted the mic stand, smiling as she lowered it to accommodate her 5'6" height. "Evenin' folks, and welcome, once again to O'Malleys. Hope you're enjoying the food; if you're not, my husband is the head chef, and you can take issue with him in the back." Her eyes fell upon the SG-1 team, seated not far from the stage. "And please—take the fights outside."
"Yeah, yeah," O'Neill said in his usual sarcastic tone, waving her off.
"Well, for those of you who missed them last week," Katherine continued, "O'Malley's presents Lindsay Montgomery and Band." Applauding, Katherine stepped out of the way, allowing a shorter, young, red-head to step up to the microphone.
"Well, getting right down to it," the red-head started, "we're gonna open with a favorite of mine. It's called 'What Would Happen.'" Strapping on a black Les Paul, Lindsey readjusted the matching black strap; behind her, the drummer pounded against the bass drum a few times. The guitar set, she turned to her band. "One and two, three..."
The room was filled with the steady beat of the drums, accompanied by the rhythm guitar and bass guitar. Three measures, and the rhythm guitar plucked in, softly at first, but with a rising volume; another measure and the low rumble of the bass guitar reverberated through the amplifiers. It was a slow, seductive rhythm, and Jack soon found himself tapping it out on the table. He watched as Lindsey stepped up to the microphone, closing her eyes and allowing the music to take control.
Electricity Eye to eye Hey don't I know you I can't speak...
Daniel glared at Jack's tapping index fingers. Meeting Daniel's glare, an embarrassed smile flickered across O'Neill's lips. "Sorry," he mumbled. He tucked one hand under his thigh, leaving the other palm-down on the table top.
Stripped my senses On the spot I've never been defenseless I can't even make sense of this You speak and I don't hear a word
"Ahem."
O'Neill looked up, seeing Daniel's insistent glare on him. "Sorry, Danny Boy," he said. He paused. "Ah, hell. Major, care to join me in a dance?" He rose from his seat, extending his hand. When she hesitated, he cleared his throat. "Otherwise, I'm likely to lose a trigger finger."
"Well, since you put it *that* way," Sam began, placing her hand in his, "how can I refuse?" She shook her head with a smile as she was led to the small dance floor.
What would happen if we kissed? Would your tongue slip passed my lips? Would you run away? Would you stay? Or would I melt into you? Mouth to mouth Lust to lust Spontaneously combust
Awkwardly, Carter stepped into O'Neill's embrace, his hands coming to rest against her hips; with a blush, she slipped her arms around his neck. //Maybe this was a bad idea,// she thought. Looking up to Jack she gave a wary smile.
Room is spinning Out of control Act like you didn't notice You brushed my hand
O'Neill cleared his throat, tilting his head to one side. Was it just him, or was it getting warmer in here? //Just other people on the dancefloor,// he reasoned. His eyes brushed over Carter's light features: the short, blonde haircut, softly styled and still damp; the deep blue eyes from which he'd so often read fear, determination, and concern; the gentle curve of her nose; her lips, now curved into a supple smile...
The colonel swallowed. //Maybe this was a bad idea.//
Forbidden fruit Ring on my finger You're such a moral, moral man To throw it away no question Will I pretend I'm innocent...?
Daniel folded his arm across his chest, supporting his elbow as his index finger curved to the contour of his pursed lips. He watched with a thoughtful expression as the space between his friends thinned, then disappeared altogether; O'Neill's hands slipped from Sam's hips to meet at her lower back, drawing her into a full embrace.
Watching the two of them over the past couple years had been akin to watching a train wreck—he knew the two moving objects would eventually collide, but he simply couldn't turn away. For a little over two years, Jack had ate, lived, and breathed SG-1. The team ate together, healed together, and spent downtime together; since his divorce from Sara, SG-1 had become his family. And, with Daniel still in mourning over Cha're, it was only natural that O'Neill be drawn to Carter.
He watched as Sam intertwined her fingers behind O'Neill's head, effectively closing the miniscule gap that remained.
They were courting disaster, and both were completely oblivious to it.
...not that Daniel, himself, was opposed, but the US Air Force might have something to say about it.
What would happen if we kissed? Would your tongue slip passed my lips? Would you run away? Would you stay? Or would I melt into you? Mouth to mouth Lust to lust Spontaneously combust
In the back of his mind, Jack could hear millions of alarm bells tolling loudly. //What the hell are you doing, Jack?// his inner voice demanded. //Need I remind you that this is your second in command?// Yes, she was his second in command, but she was also his friend. Together, their shoulders shared the burden of SG-1, the burden of work never to be officially and publicly recognized; their own families could know nothing of the work they did.
//"Hi, Honey, how was your day?"// O'Neill thought, his inner voice taking on a feminine tone. The silent response came in his own tone. //"Same old, same old... shoving the Goa'uld back through the Stargate... nothing new."// Inwardly, he snorted. //Oh yeah, that's gonna happen...//
...but that was the way it was meant to be. Maybe that's why he and Sara could never communicate, why he could never deal with his marriage as he saw it deteriorating before his eyes. There was no simplicity in their relationship, no "Hi, Honey, how was your day?", no day-to-day conversation. Then Charlie was gone, and the tiny thread that had kept them intertwined had snapped.
Jack's dark brown eyes met hers, their bodies moving in concert with the suggestive rhythm of the bass guitar and drums. And then came Sam. The briefings, debriefings; the missions; the injuries—she had been there through all of them. After one of the worst periods in his life, she had been there as he picked up the pieces, offering friendship.
What he was feeling now, however, was decidely more than platonic.
I struggle with myself again Quickly the walls are crumbling Don't know if I can turn away…
Holding his gaze with her own, Carter could see the wheels turning, could see the rough edges softening. //Why now? Why here?// She questioned. //Because you don't choose,// her inner voice answered, //it chooses you. //
When she had met him, O'Neill had been stubborn, outspoken, and prejudiced. Granted, General Hammond had quickly deflated his ego, but the first impression had not been favorable. And then came the mission; he had never once lost hope of getting home, continually circling the dungeon, searching for a way out. Then, when push came to shove, he had fought their way out—and saved dozens of others.
But then there were those eyes of his… so deep, they were truly the windows to his soul. She had watched moments of concern, heartache, and fear pass behind those brown eyes…At the end of the day, she could *talk* to him, and know exactly how he felt.
It was only vaguely that realized the vanishing distance between her lips and O'Neill's.
What would happen if we kissed? Would your tongue slip passed my lips? Would you run away? Would you stay? Or would I melt into you? Mouth to mouth Lust to lust Spontaneously combust
Daniel quickly glanced downward, bringing his hand to shield his eyes, immediately peering over it. He watched in grim astonishment as O'Neill lowered his head, touching his lips to Carter's in a tenative kiss. Things were about to get very interesting...
"Can't blame that on alien technology," he muttered.
"Indeed. There can be no one to blame," Teal'c said. His expression was emotionless as he continued to watch Carter and O'Neill, the song drawing to a close. "It is too late for the pebbles to vote."
O’Neill drew back slowly, still not completely sure of himself. He searched Carter’s eyes with his own, finding mirrored confusion. They stepped back. "Wow," he managed.
Sam raised her brows. "Yeah," she said. She brought one hand up, nervously running it through her blonde hair. Looking up to him, she cleared her throat. "So... where does this leave us?"
"That’s a pretty good question," O’Neill replied. "I guess the next question would be where do we want it to leave us?" He glanced toward the stage as Lindsey and her band began fiddle a bit with their instruments, tuning up to the next number.
"I kinda liked it where I was…" Sam looked to him, a smile tugging on the corners of her lips. Behind them, the band launched into a slow ballad. "Dance with me, sir?"
Jack chuckled, pulling her back into his embrace; she slipped her arms around his neck. "And Sam?"
"Yes?"
"Drop the ‘sir.’"
"Yes, sir."
O’Neill pulled back and looked at her, feigning a stern expression. Clearing his throat, he drew her back into his arms. Things just kept getting more interesting all the time....
End..
Story Notes: Natural Progressions 01: ramseysg11@springmail.com
ARCHIVE: Sam and Jack; (eventually) my own page; anyone else, please ask
SPOILERS: "Upgrades"
Thanks to AQ for beta-reading! Some of her corrections may not have transferred, but the effort is greatly appreciated!
ARCHIVE: Sam and Jack; (eventually) my own page; anyone else, please ask
SPOILERS: "Upgrades"
Thanks to AQ for beta-reading! Some of her corrections may not have transferred, but the effort is greatly appreciated!
DISCLAIMER: All publicly recognisable characters, settings, etc, are the property of their respective owners. Any original characters and plots are the property of the author. No money is being made from this work. No copyright infringement is intended. ... [ read more ]