samandjack.net

Story Notes: Author's Notes: Apologies to those who aren't into the March Madness tourneys. If you don't get the Terrapin joke, feel free to ask me, or the bartender (barkeep?) at the nearest sports bar (pub?).


He liked to torture himself.

Jack knew he couldn't touch it. Still, his hand was twitching, wanting to move towards it.

It was really just a tiny wisp of her hair, a few strands at most. And it was lying oh-so-innocently against her cheek, brushing right up against her slightly parted lips.

Oh God. Her lips.

And each time she exhaled, the strands moved up a bit, then came back to gently rest on her mouth, following the slow pattern of her unconscious breathing.

It's not something he should have noticed.

And really, if not for the sporadic light provided by the campfire, he wouldn't have even seen it. Wouldn't have this crazy fixation right now. Wouldn't be fighting himself not to reach over and brush those few strands from her cheek.

Her smooth, pale, silky-soft (he assumed) cheek.

"Damn," he muttered to himself. It was torture. Sheer, unadulterated, blissful tor-

"You say something, Jack?"

"What?"

"Huh?"

They looked at each other, puzzled.

"No, Daniel. I didn't say anything," Jack replied evenly. He gave Daniel his best 'And-You're-a-*Crazy*-Person-to-Think-I-Said-Anything' look.

Hopefully, that would keep Daniel quiet for a few minutes.

"Uhm- yeah," Daniel continued, "Getting back to those ceremonial ruins - they reminded me a bit of the Moai stone torsos in Chile...I can't wait to get back to start cross-referencing those inscriptions. I'm sure I have some texts that mention..."

Daniel, quiet? Riiiight. No such luck.

Usually, Jack liked their desultory conversations by the fire. It actually happened quite a bit- the mixture of caffeine and excitement from whatever discoveries they'd found would have Daniel up and yapping waaay past anyone's watch. As for himself, he always took first watch on the first night on a new planet. Too many potential dangers, too many unknowns; it kept him up anyway - he wouldn't be able to sleep.

Not that he minded, especially on nights like this. Warm, slightly balmy, but with a gently cooling breeze. A view of the stars that you couldn't get in Colorado Springs. Comfortable, quiet (except for the crickets chirping - if there *were* such things as crickets on P4X-652), and the familiar sound of twigs crackling on the fire. In fact, it had been such a beautiful night that they hadn't bothered to put up tents, opting instead to camp out in their sleeping bags.

Yep, any other night, and he'd be enjoying these late-night hijinks with Daniel. But tonight...

Tonight, he just wanted to be left alone to stare at that piece of hair resting on her face.

And torture himself.

Unfortunately, Daniel had other plans for them. "Didn't you think it was odd that those inscriptions are diametrically opposite the..."

Jack made a semblance of nodding at whatever Daniel had finished that remark with, and resigned himself to the fact that Daniel didn't seem inclined to go to sleep anytime soon.

Oh, he'd warned Daniel. He'd warned him not to have those four cups of coffee during the mission briefing. He'd warned him that the Gate lag would probably kick in with a vengeance. Hell, even Carter had warned Daniel that *both* suns on this planet set after only a few hours of light.

But had Daniel listened? Of course not. And now, here they were, the only ones up, talking about...what was Daniel yapping on about? Ah. Right. Ceremonial ruins.

"I'm pretty sure the northeast column stands for some sort of astrological marker...maybe even a calendar or sorts...I'll need an overhead shot from the UAV to be sure..."

Yapiddy yap yap yap.

Jack's mind wandered back to Carter's still form. She was sleeping on her side, most of her body covered by the front flap of the sleeping bag. But he could clearly see her profile. And that little bitty piece of hair lying against her mouth. The blonde hair reflected a spark of the firelight, winking at him, taunting him...

Get a grip, Jack. Hairs don't wink. Hairs don't taunt.

Was 'hairs' even a word?

Jack sighed, wondering if he should...

"What was that, Jack?"

"What? What was *what*, Daniel?"

"You just...*sighed* right now."

"No, I didn't."

"Yes, you did. I heard it clearly. You--"

"I don't *sigh*, Daniel. It's not something I do." This time, Jack gave Daniel his best 'And-You're-a-Crazy-Person-to-Think-I-*Sighed*' look, which, predictably...

...Had no effect on Daniel. Other than to have Daniel start back where he'd left off. If anything, the yapping got louder, more vociferous.

He really had to work on these looks.

Jack sighed again, this time careful to do so only internally. If things were different, he'd just casually reach over, take the lock of hair between his fingers, and tuck it behind Carter's ears. There, all nice and comfy. No pesky hairs to jab into that tender skin.

'Tender skin?!' Okay, that was it. He was going to end this silly obsession *right* now!

Right, O'Neill. Just reach over and move it. Move the damn piece of hair away from her face.

He'd just get up, say something like, "For cryin' out loud! Carter's eating her hair again!" and just casually reach over, brush it away. Daniel wouldn't say anything about it.

Which was precisely the point. Daniel wouldn't *say* anything, but...

Well, no. Daniel said *a lot* of things.

Jack raised his head towards Daniel. More yapping.

Trust Daniel to not notice so many things - an untied lace on his boot, a shirt buttoned up wrong, or that the coffee mug he'd just picked up and drunk from was obviously not his (it had lipstick smudge on the rim, for cryin' out loud!) but then, Daniel would pick up on the minutest inflection of voice, the smallest of gestures, the quietest of sighs. Not that Daniel would ever *say* anything... He'd probably even pretend to have not seen it.

But Daniel would, in all likelihood, have this *look* on his face. And if looks could kill...

Well, if looks could kill, Daniel would be recruited to Black Ops so fast that Jack wouldn't have time to say 'replacement archeologist, please.'

Hmm...maybe he could pretend to hear something - send Daniel to check out the northern perimeter. Then he could quickly bend over his 2IC and get that pesky piece of hair off her cheek. Except...

Except he didn't want it to be quick.

He wanted to take his time, to leisurely brush his hand against her cheek, catch the strands against his fingers so he could rub them together to feel each strand of hair. Then he'd sweep it back and tuck it securely behind her ear and continue, moving his hand along the line of her jaw to her chin. Then he'd stroke his way down the smooth line of her throat, letting his fingers rest briefly in that little hollow where he'd be able to feel her pulse beat, strong and vital, against the throbbing under his own skin.

And then... Then he'd move his hand lower, into the cocooning warmth of the sleeping bag...

Noooooo! No, no, no, no, and NO! No touching!

"Jack, are you listening?"

Jack jolted back to the present. "Yeah, Daniel. You betcha I am."

Daniel shot him a skeptical look, but continued.

Damn, he had to get rid of Daniel. He was interrupting in the most enjoyable part of the mission. Or at least, the most enjoyable part of the mission for *him*, anyway. Daniel had his ruins, Carter got to do some tests on a mineral thingie in the rocks of the ruins, and, hell, even Teal'c had gotten to fire his staff weapon to blast away a pile of rocks that were blocking the entrance to the ruins.

Everyone had had *some* fun in the ruins.

Everyone except Jack O'Neill. This, in fact - watching Carter - was his favorite part of the mission so far, and Daniel was 'ruin'-ing it!

Argh!

Barely stifling the cry of frustration, Jack's mind turned towards the practicalities of getting rid of Daniel. Maybe Daniel would get tired of talking...hopefully, soon.

But the thing about Daniel, was, well, Daniel could talk. And talk.

And talk.

There was really only one way about it.

"Daniel, get some rest. I'm ordering you."

"I'm still keyed up, Jack. Not tired at all." His eyes were wide and awake, lucid and full of thoughts. Thoughts on ceremonial ruins and columns. Thoughts on the significance of said ruins and columns.

Thoughts that Jack was sure Daniel would insist on sharing with him throughout their watch.

Crap.

Unless...maybe there were *two* ways about it.

"Okay then, Daniel. So... You wanna talk some more?"

Daniel nodded. "Yeah, about those markings in the southeast quadrant, I have a theory that-"

"What do you think about Maryland's chances this year," Jack said abruptly, cutting Daniel off.

Daniel blinked. Twice. "You know I don't follow professional sports, Jack."

"It's NCAA, Daniel. College."

"Whatever! I don't follow *any* kind of hockey."

"Basketball. We're talking about basketball."

"*You're* talking about basketball, Jack. *I'm* talking about-"

Jack cut him off again. "By the way, do you know what a Terrapin is?"

"Um - it's an aquatic reptile native to North America. A turtle, but it's commonly mistaken for..." a small furrow formed between Daniel's eyes, "Why did you just ask me that?"

"I've just always..." Jack let out a noisy breath, "...Wondered."

"Oh," said Daniel. He raised one hand, took off his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose with the other hand. "Um, maybe I am getting a bit sleepy, after all," he said slowly.

"Of course." Jack tried not to smile. "Go, Terrapins!"

"Uh, yeah, uh - I'm going to bed now."

"Nite nite, Daniel." He couldn't keep the excitement out of his voice. Now he could go back to...what he was doing earlier. Uninterrupted. He watched Daniel crawl into his sleeping bag, take off his glasses and lay them down next to him, and - finally - Daniel turned around, away from the light of the fire.

Finally.

Jack turned his attention back to -

No! Crap! When had she shifted positions? Now she lay on her back instead of her side, her full face exposed to the air, all the hair falling neatly back towards the sleeping bag. No truant wisps of hair to contemplate brushing away. No blonde pieces to torture himself with.

Dammit, Daniel had probably made too much noise tucking himself in! For a few moments, Jack let himself fume at the blissfully ignorant target of his anger. Then, he stood up, about to rouse Teal'c from his Kel'no'reem for the next watch, when-

When a small breeze blew into the campsite -

A tiny leaf blew in with the wind -

And found a place to rest.

On Carter's forehead.

Yes! Yeeeeeeeeeees!

Jack retook his seat, deciding to take Teal'c's watch. Telling himself that his buddy could use the extra rest, Jack made himself comfortable on the uprooted log once more. He trained one eye on the visible perimeter of their campsite, and the other on the figure sleeping beside him.

Now...should he reach over and brush that leaf off of Carter's forehead? Or not? Pluck it off with his two fingers? Or gently sweep it off that smooth brow with just the tips of his hands?

Or not?

Jack sat back and smiled as he watched the play of firelight on her skin.

He liked the torture.

***Fin***

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