There were few people that could manage to leave Samantha Carter breathless, and even less that could say they'd done it on several occasions. She could count on one hand the number of guys she'd fallen for so hard that she could barely stand to be around them, let alone talk to them.
The name at the top of the list? Colonel Jack O'niell.
Now, finally, she understood why she'd always adored those twisted romance novels in which the heroine falls for the untouchable knight and can never touch his face, never say the words she aches to say, because she is promised to another man, yatta yatta yatta.
As of five years, Sam had done a pretty fine job of keeping her *ahem* feelings a secret, including being as officer-ish as humanly possible. Hell, she'd even made him "sir" and "colonel" instead of the customary "Jack" or "O'niell." No one called Jack sir. Or colonel, excepting Hammond. But no one ever suspected that someone so stodgy as to call him sir could be *AHEM* in love with him.
Gazing out the windows now of the too-bright van, Sam wondered just how far she was willing to take this charade of hers. She'd nearly lost him too many times, and she'd nearly not come back too many times herself; to tell the truth, the thought of never seeing him or SG-1 again was the only thing that gave her strength. Will. Whatever the hell you wanted to call it.
Quite honestly (to herself only, of course) she didn't know if she could face that again. Any of it. Imagining a life without Jack was . . . could there even be such a thing? Could it exist, in any world? Ooh, nix that, there was that one world with the long-haired her, sobbing over her husband Jack's death . . . yea, okay, so it was possible.
She knew that anyway.
The van screeched to a halt, and there was a joyous call of "Who's got gas?" from the front of the van. Sam resisted - with trouble -the urge to slap her forehead. There were few people who could be quite so funny with a line quite that stupid.
Hello, Jack. Please come back. She looked up in time to see him fairly leap for the door, get snagged by Tielk, and hauled back in by Daniel, both of whom looked like thunderheads. "We are only moderately low on gas, O'niell," Tielk rumbled. "May I ask as to why we have stopped movement?"
././.
"I'm hungry. Who's hungry?" I asked, working on instinct alone, because that look Jack sent me couldn't be gratitude, could it? Daniel sent me a look that said very clearly he didn't believe me, but he wasn't about to challenge me, since I rarely - if ever - lied.
"Then we're good," Jack said eagerly, charging from the van. This time I stopped him, eyebrows raised.
"Shouldn't you be filling up the van, sir?" I asked, trying my best to sound like Daniel. A scowl fit itself onto his face, which was helping to distract me from those *sinful* jeans . . .
"Yea, yea, go get chow," he muttered, stalking towards the pump as if it were the last thing he wanted to do. It made me more than a little curious as to why he wanted to go inside - even more than usual, I mean. So I hitched up my skirt, stuffed my sunglasses in my pocket, and hurried inside.
I'd managed to get four twinkies, a coke, two bags of chips, and a ham sandwich before I saw him. Color immediately rushed to my cheeks, and for a moment I couldn't tell why. I mean, jesus, was he *gorgeous* . . . and those eyes were *so* to die for . . . and those jeans . . . My thoughts stopped there, because damn it all, I knew those jeans. Hell, I knew that butt. My eyes moved back up to his face, and it was hard to keep my jaw from hitting the floor. No wonder Jack was so hot *now* - he was a freakin' hottie *then*!
I fought down a squeak and made my way to the counter, but his eyes had found mine and he cut through the crowd (minor as it was) to come and stand beside me. His lips were pulled up in a sinfully dangerous smile, one I knew had to have worked a dozen times over.
"Hey, beautiful," he murmured, eyes moving up and down my face. I turned to look at him, and his eyes widened marginally. "*Damn* if you aren't my dream girl!"
God, I hoped that was a line.
"The name's Jack," he said, sticking out a hand and confirming my fears. Nightmares. Dreams. "Jack O'neill - two L's."
"I bet," I said in return, taking his hand. His grin widened, and his eyes moved to Jack - my Jack - who was lounging against th bus. "That your ride, or your date?"
"My friend," I said, smiling a little. "Are you going to buy my food or are you just hoping I'll throw you some?"
He looked a little taken aback, but he never skipped a beat, his smile widening even further. He reminded me heavily of the cheshire cat. "You *are* buying my favorite chips . . ." he said thoughtfully. "What the hell. I'll do anything for my dream girl." He fished out a puny wad of cash, eyeing it skeptically, and I couldn't help it - I laughed.
"I wasn't serious," I said helplessly, setting them on the counter and pulling out my own cash. His eyes widened, and a frown flitted across his face.
"I was," he shot back. He paused, then said, "Let me guess. You're a . . . Sam."
My shock must have been written across my face, because he grinned triumphantly. "See? Hot damn, I'm good."
"And gas," I murmured to the cashier, who was looking tired and irritable. I chanced a look at Jack, then shook my head. "If I didn't know any better, I'd think you were trying to pick me up."
"Why? Is it working?"
"I didn't say that - " I complained instantly, my cheeks heating. His eyes moved to my cheeks, and a slow chuckle rose from the back of his throat.
"Geeze. Maybe I *will* get lucky. I was just sorta hoping for some conversation with a beautiful woman, you know?"
My eyebrows rose as I moved to pick up the food, sliding them into my arms. "You really think I'm that pretty?" What the hell. What could it cost me?
He looked at my consideringly, then shrugged. "Who wouldn't? I mean, *damn*. You're like . . . like . . ." He was at a loss for words. My confidence rose a notch or two. "My point *is* that you're *way* too good for gramps out there."
"Wow, Jack, I'm flattered. Were you *stuttering*?" To my surprise, he flinched, bright red.
"No. Just thinkin', that's all."
"It's okay," I assured him, a sly smile crossing my face. "It's hard not to see how pretty I am, right?"
He groaned softly, eyes on the sky. "Jesus. Where *were* you all my life?"
My eyes went to Jack. "Science lab?"
"You serious?"
"No."
"Oh - because I think scientists are *so* hot. I mean, the lab coat, the mking things blow up . . . I mean, *hello*." He gave a roguish grin. "I'll see you around, mama. Next time, I buy you coffee. Black, right?"
"You're freaking me out!" I called after him, and he smirked, swinging a leg over a Harley and roaring off before I could think to see that one of my twinkies was gone. Shaking my head, I crossed over to the van, where Jack opened one eye and eyed me skeptically.
"What was the yelling for?"
I passed him his chips, moving for the door in silence. I paused, though, looking back at him, noting that his eyes had followed me. "So you like scientists, huh?"
His eyes widened in horror, and I smiled, stepping up into the van. I heard him call after me a hoarse "That was when I was *high*!"
"Sir," I said, sticking my head back out the door, "You realize that as said scientist, I can tell very well who is high and who is not?"
He glared at me. "I stomach it well."
"Is this why, O'niell, you can never find yourself smoking?" Tielk rumbled from inside the van. "I find it quite intriguing."
I arched an eyebrow, and Jack shot back, "My science line always worked - "
"Like the dream girl line, of course," I said, cutting him off. He looked a little blown away.
"I don't remember any dream girl line," Jack said skeptically, shoving his hands into his pockets. "Are you *sure* you were talking to me?"
What the hell. What could it cost me? "Believe me, sir. There's *no one* who looks that good in jeans."
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Fin.
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 ]