Title: Morning Glory.
Author: Ky
Pairing: Sam/Jack
Summary: "What the hell did you come here for?"
Disclaimer: Song belongs to Thirsty Merc. Show's not mine. I'll put them back when I'm done, relatively unharmed.
Date: 30/04/08
Author's Notes: Written for meg_pat2000. Hope you like it, darl. Let’s all keep in mind that I haven’t seen season 10, so canon may be a little off!

***

Take me back to the sweet times, hot nights

Everything's gonna be alright

***

Getting to Earth had been the easy part. Finding her former CO was proving to be moderately more difficult. Which was just plain stupid.

She'd made it home from another galaxy with relative ease, but couldn't find the damn man she'd come home to see. She could navigate Galaxies and Solar Systems with her eyes closed, but finding one man in Washington was going to be the death of her, at this rate. On her own former Stomping Ground and all.

Of course, it probably didn't help that he had no idea she'd been coming.

Cursing, Sam gave up on her attempt to walk to his obviously cloaked apartment building and hailed a cab. She gave the address that he had scrawled down on a piece of paper for her before she'd left, her attention not on the driver as he tried to make small talk with her.

The streets of Washington went by in a blur, her eyes glazed over as she wondered if jet-lag applied to hyperspace travel.

Probably.

When the driver pulled up to a medium sized apartment block, Sam blindly handed over some cash - he'd probably just gotten a really great tip, which might have made up for the fact that her brain had melted out of her ear and was currently sitting on the black leather back-seat - and stumbled out of the cab. She didn't have much in the way of luggage, just a small carry bag.

Technically, though she'd been on Atlantis for some months, her house and most of her belongings were still on Earth. If she really needed something, she could get it without too many dramas.

Though, really, considering she'd come to earth with the vague plan of - hopefully - spending the weekend indoors, it probably wouldn't matter all that much.

Forcing her slightly shaky legs up to the entrance, Sam raised an eyebrow as she looked at the lobby. It didn't seem like the kind of place he would have chosen to live in, but she figured he probably spent most of his time in his office, anyway.

"Can I help you, Ma'am?"

The doorman probably thought she was batshit, standing around the lobby like a wide-eyed kid. "I'm looking for General O'Neill?"

"Reception is to the left."

"Thanks."

Doorman? Reception? She wasn’t sure if she was in an apartment block or a hotel, anymore.

When the woman at the reception desk acknowledged her, Sam repeated the request.

"Is he expecting you, Ma'am?"

"No. I'm an... old friend," Should it hurt to say that? "and I was hoping to surprise him."

"I'm afraid I can't let you up without permission from the General."

Sam sighed. She should have realized that he'd be in a secure building. They didn't let people like him hang out at any old dive.

"Causing trouble, are you, Carter?"

She spun around. "Sir!"

He waved and, though he kept his eyes on Sam, he spoke to the woman behind the desk. "She's OK, Julie."

The receptionist nodded, "Yes sir." before turning her attention back to the monitor in front of her.

"So..."

"Hi, sir."

"Hey Carter." He smiled softly, as though the pleasantries were somehow amusing. "Pretty swanky digs, aren't they?"

"Very." She grinned a little. "I was waiting to be asked for a thumbprint before they'd let me in the door."

"They don't do that." He replied seriously. "Retina scans are always preferred."

"Of course." She nodded.

"You want to come up?"

"Sure."

He took her bag and glared at her when she tried to protest. The elevator ride up to the penthouse - they really had given him some 'swanky digs' - was silent and awkward as hell.

Sam followed him down the hall and into his suite.

It was large and very clean and she knew instinctively that he hated it. It was far too over the top for him and she suspected that it was only at the grace of the staff that the rooms stayed as clean as they did.

"Nice place."

"It's very..." He coughed and set her bag down by the couch. "...penthouse-ish."

"I don't think that's a word, sir."

"Probably not." He agreed with a shrug. "Beer?'

She nodded, if only to stall the question that she knew was coming.

They hadn't actually seen each other since she'd left and, even then, their goodbye had been flanked by half of the Prometheus crew. There'd been no declarations now that they were finally, really, well-and-truly out of the same chain of command.

For the most part, anyway.

Sam had spend the week leading up to her departure planning a way to subtly tell him that she'd been in love with him since day one and, should he ever get the urge to jump her bones, she'd be pretty OK with that. But, when faced with the reality - and the prying eyes of a dozen people she didn't really know - she'd faltered and said a quiet goodbye and wished him well in Washington.

He'd handed her a piece of paper with his new address, told her to look him up if she was ever in town, given her a stupidly brief hug and walked away.

And that had been that.

God knew it hadn't really given her any hope for their future, but still, here she was, first chance she'd gotten and she was standing in his living room all but ready to strip naked and offer herself on a platter.

Briefly, Sam wondered if he had a platter around that she could use.

Thankfully his return, with beer, saved that thought from developing into anything evil and she took the bottle and gulped half of it down in two mouthfuls until she was sure that any such platter urges had gone.

"So what's this I hear about you having a picture of me in your office?"

She was grateful that she'd swallowed the liquid before he’d spoken or he would have been wearing it as she gaped at him. "How do you...?"

"People talk, Carter."

"About us? Across Galaxies?"

He shrugged. "We're interesting, apparently."

"I wonder how people would feel about knowing that their tax dollars are going towards the continued discussion of the on-going Carter/O'Neill relationship."

"Relationship?" He raised his eyebrow. The one with the scar. The one that made her insides flop in a decidedly juvenile response. As it had been doing for almost a decade.

She flushed. "You know what I mean."

"No, I think you should explain it to me."

"Sir..."

"Jack, Carter."

"Sam, Jack." She countered.

"Point taken." He conceded. "So why are you here? Travel all this way for a beer?"

It was time to be honest. "I came to see you."

"Because..."

It was worse than pulling teeth and she knew damn well that he wouldn't help her any with this. She could either continue to skirt around the issue - which was what had led to them not doing the horizontal tango yet - or she could take a page from his book and be blunt. "I always thought we'd end up together."

"A lot has happened."

"Yes," She agreed, thinking of Pete, Kerry, Martouf, Laira, all the others, all the events, everything, "But I still thought..."

"Thought what?"

"I thought that, when the chain of command stopped being an issue, we'd... talk. About us."

"Says the woman that took the inter-galactic assignment." There was no anger in his voice, just acceptance. He could have been telling her it was raining outside and the inflection would have been much the same.

"I couldn't pass up heading Atlantis." She defended.

"I didn't ask you to."

"What was I supposed to do? Ask you to wait for me? Ask you to be happy with seeing each other a few times a year?" Which, really, was pretty much what she’d come here to ask anyway.

"I could have retired."

She shook her head stubbornly. "I wouldn't ask that of you."

"Carter, I would have retired for you in the third year of the program. You never had to ask, you just had to say you wanted to give us a shot."

"I didn't ever want you to give anything up for me, Jack."

"What if I think you're worth it?" He asked quietly.

"I didn't want to force you to even think about making that kind of choice." Her voice was just as quiet and she wondered if they'd wasted so much time that nothing would ever come of it.

She'd felt the spark of attraction for him since day one. She'd felt the love that radiated between them right about the time Jolinar had invaded her body. Eight years. It was a long time to wait for someone and Sam could only hope that the wait hadn't diminished the feelings. Or, worse, made them both develop ridiculously high expectations that would be crushed in a matter of moments.

"We could have gone the long-distance route, Carter."

She suspected that he didn't realize that he'd slipped back into using her surname - and it was full of so much affection that hearing him call her 'Sam' almost seemed wrong, anyway - and she didn't bother to correct him. "They rarely work across a state, let along the kind of distance you and I would have been facing."

"Shouldn't we have both made this decision, then?"

"You didn't seem that upset when I left." She reminded him.

If he'd given her a clue... any kind of sign... something... to let her know he was still interested, then she would have been ready and willing to have a discussion with him, any time, any place. Hell, she would have gone on Jerry Springer with him if he'd asked.

But he hadn't.

He'd avoided her once the announcement had been made and then there'd been the address scrawled carelessly on a piece of scrap paper and she'd been left with a knot in her stomach and tears pricking at her eyes as she took command of her mission.

"What did you want me to do? Beg you not to go?"

"No, but a few words would have been nice."

"And just what would I have said, Carter?"

I love you. I'll miss you. Don't go. Stay with me.

She could almost hear his voice in her head, like the ghost of something she’d wanted but couldn't have. “I don’t know.”

“That makes two of us.”

Sam was tempted to swallow the last of the beer, but she suspected that more alcohol was the last thing she really needed right now. 

A knot in her stomach and a lump in her throat, she nodded to herself and kept her eyes on the carpet. “I shouldn’t have come, I’m sorry.”

She reached for her bag and made for the door, intent only on getting out of the building before any of the tears that welled in her eyes fell. She wouldn't let him see her cry, not over him.

There was bound to be a hotel somewhere nearby where she could stay before she made arrangements to get back to Atlantis earlier than first planned.

She was standing at the door trying to figure out how it opened - why did swanky digs resist something as simple as a doorknob? - when she felt him behind her. After all of this time, she could still sense where he was in a room, by smell and sound alone.

"Need a hand?"

His voice was too close to her neck and it made her shiver. She cursed her decision to wear her hair up and thus leave her skin exposed. Nevertheless, she wasn't going to admit that she - the Colonel Samantha Carter - couldn't open the door to his suite.

"Carter?"

She spun around, an irrational surge of anger at the kindness in his voice slamming into her. "What?"

The answer wasn't anything even approaching verbal. He closed the minimal distance between their bodies and pressed his lips against hers, hard.

When his tongue touched her lips, it occurred to her that this was their first real kiss. No alien virus', no dreams, no time loops - Thank You, Mr. Daniel Big Mouth Jackson - just them, together, finally, doing it because they wanted to and doing it without fear of reproach.

It should have been wonderful, magical, everything that she'd spent far too long wishing for and imagining. Everything that had kept her awake at night and everything that had made her flush with guilt during the day.

In reality, though... kinda sucked, really.

She knew damn well that the only reason they were kissing - and could it even be called kissing when she was concentrating more on why it was happening as opposed to enjoying it? - was because he wanted to shut her up or calm her down or whatever it was that his intention was.

Either way, she knew that he hadn't initiated the kiss because of any desire that he may have had and that knowledge was enough to make her push his shoulders - hard - until there was at least two feet between them and she was glaring for all she was worth.

"What the hell are you doing?"

"What the hell did you come here for?" He shot back.

"To see you!" Her voice was getting steadily louder and she knew that, very soon, she was going to start sounding like a wounded cat on crack.

"Why?" His voice also taking on a mildly inhuman quality.

"Because I love you, you idiot!" And there was the wounded cat in all its glory.

He blinked at her. Didn't say a damn word, just blinked at her.

"Say something!" She snapped,

"It's not the most romantic declaration I've ever heard. I can’t see hallmark producing cards like that."

Was he smiling at her? Now? Seriously? "It's the best you're going to get."

He shrugged. "I'll take it."

And then he kissed her again, only, this time, it was wonderful, magical, everything that she'd spent far too long wishing for and imagining. It was enough to make her toes curl and her insides turn to mush.

The bag dropped from her hand and she tugged on the back of his neck, pulling him closer while he licked and sucked at her mouth, making her gasp. One of his hands found her hips and he pulled her closer, bringing their lower bodies into contact, while his free arm wrapped around her shoulders.

Sam could feel the hardness growing against her belly, even through their clothes. Belatedly, she realized that she was rubbing herself against that hardness like a horny teenager that had just discovered sex, but the wetness between her legs was growing and she couldn’t bring herself to care.

He was grinding against her, too, fucking her through her clothes and that only made her want him more.

And then the shrill ring of a telephone broke through her haze and fought against her desire for dominance in her mind. She didn’t know if it was his phone or hers, but either way, she was not impressed.

Are you kidding me??

She’d waited for this moment for ten years and nothing, come hell or high water, was going to stop her now. She didn’t care if it was the paper boy or the President, they weren’t worthy of her attention. Not right now.

“Ignore it!” She demanded around his tongue, refusing to relinquish her grip.

“Planning on it!” He replied, pulling her even closer, if that were possible.

Despite the annoying sound of the phone that didn’t appear to be stopping any time soon, their clothes were pulled and tugged until they were naked and pressed against each other. The door was cold against her back, but the sharing of body heat at her front more than made up for it.

Insistent hands pawed at her, rough calluses tickling her skin as he touched and teased every part of flesh he could reach - with the exception of the one place that she actually needed him to be.

“Want something, Carter?” He teased, tickling the insides of her thighs lightly.

She glared. “Don’t you think a decade of foreplay is enough?”

He was a man; she hadn’t really expected him to consider the question and he didn’t disappoint. “I see your point. Bed?”

“What’s wrong with here?” She raised an eyebrow and grinned.

“My knees are shot and I’m somewhat older than you.”

Though the twinkle in his eye was genuine, Sam knew that both of those factors were a big concern for him. His knees had given him trouble for years and he shouldn’t be supporting her weight as he fucked her against a door. Not that it wouldn’t have been nice.

Either way, she wasn’t going to have any sort of serious discussion with him now, though, so she simply nodded and agreed, “Bed.”

Lips firmly attached to his and eyes closed, she trusted him to walk her through the layout of the suite and get them safely to the bedroom. He’d had her six in the field against hostile aliens for long enough that she’d trust him for almost anything without hesitation.

That was, right up until he walked himself into a coffee table and almost yelped as his calf made rather violent contact with the corner.

“Shit!”

She couldn’t help it, she laughed. “You OK?”

“Fine.” He winced. “Pride’s a little wounded.”

“If anyone could look attractive while injuring themselves naked, it’s you.”

He rolled his eyes, but huffed a laugh. “Let’s try this again, shall we?”

“By all means.” Her amusement didn’t dissipate any when he took her hand and led her to the bedroom.

She cast a sweeping glance around the room, but it paled in comparison to the man at her side. “Where were we?”

He pulled her close again, fingertips in the slope of her back, warm breath tickling her cheek. “I think we were here.”

Sam lifted her head until their lips were almost touching. “Seems like a good place to be.”

“Works for me.”

It worked for her, too, because he brought their mouths together again and very quickly pushed any thoughts of coffee tables, age, shot knees or telephones out of her mind. Not that she was going to complain.

Her hands ran the length of his chest, the sparse hairs tickling her palms as she felt the muscles beneath the warm skin. It was too much temptation and she pulled back from the kiss to blatantly stare.

She’d seen him shirtless quite a few times over the years and, though those had all been pretty good times from her side of the fence - not so good for him when it involved injury - there was something very surreal about seeing her hands actually on his skin. 

How long had she been waiting to do this - and more?

She watched herself touching him and was almost surprised when she could feel her own arousal growing. She hadn't been kidding when she'd said that ten years of foreplay was enough. Hell, if she hadn't thought that it might have given him a heart attack, she would have pinned him down and had her way with him the second they'd hit the elevator.

It was a nice thought.

When she finally looked up from her study of all things Jack O'Neill - and all things were going to play out in her dreams for a while - she found him watching her with half-amused, half-aroused eyes.

"Enjoying yourself?"

"I am," She replied confidently. "But I want you."

He swallowed roughly. "We're even, then."

She grinned and promptly pushed at his shoulders until he fell backwards, landing on the mattress. Sam didn't have a lot of patience at this point - they'd both been virtual saints around each other for years, she figured they were entitled to just go for gold, now - and she climbed on top of him, straddling his thighs.

When she settled herself, his hard cock was pressed up against the apex of her thighs. The wetness lubricated him and she rocked slightly, stimulating herself just enough to take the edge off, but not enough to offer anything resembling satisfaction.

Two strong hands held her hips firmly, helping her move, forcing her to press harder, move faster. One of his hands moved from her hip to her stomach, trailing down to play with her curls. As soon as his fingertip touched her clit, a jolt of desire shot through her and she knew that, despite her initial thought, she could easily come if she let him continue.

With one hand on his chest to steady herself, she used the other to grip the base of his cock - and, by god, she wanted to make him groan like that again - before she lowered herself onto him with one steady thrust.

She could feel her flesh stretching to accommodate him - apparently her vibrator wasn't as accurately sized as she'd hoped - and she knew, without doubt, that, though she would laugh at herself for it, this moment would be one that she'd remember when she was back in her rooms in Atlantis and rubbing herself raw to thoughts of him.

They'd waited so long for this and neither of them seemed inclined to move for a moment as they both savored the feeling of finally being like this with each other.

For as much as she enjoyed the moment, though, an insistent throbbing between her legs quickly overshadowed any kind of emotional revelation that she may have had, and Sam began to move, fucking herself on him as she held his gaze, quickly falling into a steady rhythm of rising until they were almost separate and slamming back down again.

The pull on her muscles as she moved burned a little and Sam was sharply reminded that it'd been a while since she'd done this with another person. That wasn't going to stop her, though, and the sweet burn only added to the desire humming through her body. It was highly possible that this was the most erotic moment of her life and she knew damn well that it was the dark eyes that watched her that contributed to that fact just as much as the hard body beneath her. The burn only made it more real.

Perspiration clung to her skin, coating her in a fine sheen of sweat as she rode him, breathing hard. His nostrils flared as he watched her and his hand moved back to where they were joined. She could feel him as he touched her, fondling her clit and feeling her spread around him, forcing her willing body closer and closer to her rapidly approaching orgasm.

Her movements sped up as the coil of need wound tighter and tighter in her lower belly, urged on by his wandering hand. His other hand left her hip to fondle her breast and work her nipple, and that was all it took.

She cried out - 'Jack' or 'Sir', she wasn't sure - as she came, clenching around him and shuddering violently as she rode out her orgasm, fighting for breath even as she fought to hang on to the utter helplessness that swept through her.

Mildly dazed, she was vaguely aware of him pulling her body down roughly as he came, calling out her surname in such a way that she'd never be able to hear it again without thinking of him, like this.

Boneless, she fell forward, breathing hard into his neck and fighting the residual shudders that passed through her. They were both sticky and she knew that as soon as one of them moved, she'd leak their combined fluids, but she didn't have the energy to care about that and he didn't seem to mind it much as he held her close, breathing just as hard as she was.

"How long can you stay?" He finally whispered.

Her heart clenched. "Just a few days."

"Holiday plans?"

"I'm pretty content right here."

He used a finger to tilt her head up and smiled against her mouth and replied, "Works for me." Before he kissed her again.

***

Sam felt the change in his breathing as his body pulled him towards consciousness. She'd only been awake for a few moments, quietly enjoying the warmth of the bed and the body beside her. Despite a full night’s sleep - after another frenzied coupling - she was still sleepy and it almost made her sad that she’d forgotten how tired good sex could make her.

Despite that, she smiled against his chest as she lay nestled against his side, but she didn't move when she heard is slightly hoarse, "Hi."

"Good morning."

Jack stretched beneath her and the movement made her smile widen. "Sleep well?"

"Very." His hand ran up and down the length of her arm. "You?"

"Mmm, Good."

A few moments of silence stretched before he spoke again. "Are you going to let me kiss you good morning?"

"No."

"No?"

"No." She shook her head against his side.

"And why not?"

She mumbled her reply into his skin.

"Carter?"

Sam bit her lip before she repeated, "I have morning breath."

"So do I, Carter."

She couldn't be certain, but it seemed fairly likely that he was trying not to laugh his ass off at her. She huffed. "Well, I don't want to deal with yours any more than I want to deal with mine!"

He did laugh, then. "I'd think you were a nut job if I didn't already know you."

"Thanks." She snorted.

"It's OK, I love you anyway."

Sam froze, a little unsure how she was supposed to take that comment - even though she’d already said it - before she finally responded, "Good. We're even, then."

It was a good morning to be alive, she decided.

***

End