Title: How To Be Normal

Author: Nicky Chevalier

Email: Nickychevalier@yahoo.com

Category: Sam/Jack Romance, PWP. Maybe a little angst.

Status: Complete

Rating: NC-17

Content Warnings: Sex & sap. That's pretty much it. ;)

Spoilers: None

Season/Sequel: Around the end of season four; sequel to 'Regular, Non-World-Saving People'.

Archive: S/J Archive, Heliopolis, anywhere else just let me know where it goes.

Summary: "For people who battle deadly, parasitic aliens on a regular basis, simply acting on our feelings should not be this nerve-wracking."

Disclaimer: If I owned these characters, they'd probably be married, pregnant, and on to their third child by now. Since they're not, it's pretty safe to assume that MGM, Gekko, and Double Secret Productions still owns them.

Author's notes: Same thing applies to this fic as it's predecessor- it was written simply as a cure for insomnia. And also as a response to all the wonderful, kind, brilliant, greatly appreciated, much-loved feedback I got asking for a sequel. It contains no plot, and is exceedingly sappy, so if you don't like that I'd find another story.

***
The sixtieth lap around the perimeter of my walk-in closet turns out to be no different from the previous fifty-nine, and I close the door with a frustrated sigh.

Oh, you know what, screw it. My jeans are comfortable and flattering, my soft blue sweater is casual but nice, and I'm wearing matching underwear. So why bother to change?

I mean, It's not like this is a date or anything. I just invited my CO over for sex, that's all.

Oh god.

I pace the floor in front of my computer and re-read the last few lines in the instant messenger window.

<ColonelJack: Are you serious?>

<Sam_I_Am: Depends. Are you coming over or not?>

<ColonelJack: I'll be right over. Do I really have to stop for Chinese?>

<Sam_I_Am: Forget Chinese, don't even stop for a red light if you can possibly help it...>

I can't help it, I grin. I just invited my CO over for sex. He's *finally* on his way over right now to make passionate, heart-stopping, *long* overdue love to me, and if General Hammond wants us to save the world tonight I swear to god I'll kill him myself.

Well, okay, that's not entirely true. If need be, we'll go and save the world but I won't be happy about it.

I glance around my living room, looking for something to do, but everything is neat and in order and I curse myself for always being so damned tidy. I need something to keep me occupied because this pacing is going to wear a hole in my floor.

Not that I'm nervous or anything. This has been a long time coming, it's just the inevitable conclusion of something that's been building up for years. So why would I be nervous? I'm in total control, the epitome of calm.

I almost jump out of my skin when the doorbell rings.

Oh god, he's here. I stand like a deer in the headlights for a full minute before my brain kicks in again. The door, Sam, get the door.

He's standing casually on the porch as though this is an everyday occurance. The very picture of relaxed. Yeah, right. I know him better than that.

"Can I come in?" He asks me finally, and I realise I've been staring. Nice one, Sam.

"Oh, yeah, sorry," I answer sheepishly, and move to let him inside. He smiles and I melt.

We make it to the living room and he sits uneasily on the edge of the couch, looking at me questioningly. He's waiting for me to do something. What have I started here?

I don't join him, instead backing away towards the kitchen.

"Coffee?"

I wonder if he can hear the tremor in my voice.

"Sure," he answers, and I note with some satisfaction that his own voice is slightly shaken.

What the hell is going on here? For people who battle deadly, parasitic aliens on a regular basis, simply acting on our feelings should not be this nerve-wracking. Are we so screwed-up we don't even remember how to be normal anymore?

I make a hasty exit, my mind racing as I methodically pour two mugs of steaming coffee. He's still perched on the couch when I leave the refuge of the kitchen, and he nods his thanks when I hand him his coffee.

We sit on opposite ends of the couch and drink in silence. This is so not going the way I planned.

After a full ten minutes of avoiding each other's gaze he gives me a look that says 'it's okay, we don't have to do this', and gets up to leave.

"Maybe I should just... go." He shrugs uncomfortably and moves for the door.

My mind screams it's disapproval.

"Jack..." I start. I meant it as a protest but somehow it comes out sounding like an apology.

He shakes his head and opens the front door, turning to face me in the doorway. "No, it's okay. I understand. We can just go back to the way it was before." He looks like he wants to say more, but thinks better of it and walks out, leaving the door open.

He gets halfway across the lawn before I reach him, moving in front of him to block his path. I don't say anything, I couldn't if I wanted to. We just stare at each other, and then there are hands at my waist and his mouth is on mine, and my hands slide up to twine around his neck.

His lips part mine, his tongue seeking entry that I gratefully give. Years of sexual tension pour out of us in this one, hot kiss that we have to break all too soon to breathe in short gasps of suddenly much needed air.

"Jack..." I momentarily lose my train of thought as his mouth comes crashing down onto mine again.

"Mmmm?" Is his answer, apparently he's having as much trouble using his voice as I am.

"We're still outside."

He doesn't answer, I guess because it's probably hard to talk with my tongue in his mouth; instead he lifts me so my feet dangle a few inches from the ground and walks back to the house, never breaking the kiss.

He kicks the door shut, still carrying me, and walks to the couch, depositing me swiftly onto my back.

To hell with nerves, now this is more like it.

My hands thread through the hair at the back of his neck, pulling his lips back to mine, and then move down his sides and under his shirt to glide over the muscles of his back.

He groans in response to the caress and pulls off the shirt, then grips the hem of my sweater and pulls it over my head.

His lips now trailing down my neck, he slides his hands under me to the small of my back and I gasp as he pulls me sharply against his groin, letting me feel his arousal. I moan and push against him, and I swear if I had known Jack could do this to me four years ago I would have slammed him down on the breifing room table right then and there, General Hammond be damned.

"You're overdressed, Sam-I-Am," he smiles, and I laugh at his reference to my screen name.

"Do something about it, ColonelJack." I answer, and he tugs at the button on my jeans.

"Oh, I fully intend to."

My living room doesn't look so tidy anymore. Clothing is thrown everywhere, and as the last obstacle of fabric is thrown to the floor and disregarded, I decide that five years of foreplay is more than enough and I can't wait any longer.

"God, Sam..." He moans as I pull him into me, and I have to remind myself to breathe. Then he starts to move, and short gasps and breathy moans fill the room as we easily find a rhythm.

I feel the warm tension dragging me towards completion and he increases the tempo, breathing hard against my neck as I rake my fingernails over the sweat-slicked skin of his back.

I know he is close, and as my muscles contract around him and I am enveloped in endless pleasure, his thrusts become frantic and he follows me over the edge.

He collapses onto me, and I love the delicious weight of him pressing me into the couch as our breathing returns to normal.

"Am I crushing you?" He asks softly, and I shake my head, still not quite sure I can work my voice yet. He moves anyway, flipping us so that I'm laying on him instead, his hands tracing soothing patterns over my spine as sleep threatens. I fight it off, but my eyes close stubbornly and I can't stifle a yawn.

"Sleep." He whispers into my hair.

I look up at him, pressing my lips to his for a moment just because I can. "I'm afraid I'll wake up and this will all have been a dream."

He chuckles, and shakes his head wryly. "Not even *my* dreams have come close to this, and I've had some pretty good dreams."

Laughing, I nod my agreement, kiss him again, and go to sleep.

***
End. Feedback would make my day.
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