Fic: Settling In (Sam/Jack, PG, Valentines #11)
Title: Settling In
Author: Pepper
Rating: G
Summary: Typical. It was absolutely typical of him.
Season: One
Pairing(s): Sam/Jack
A/N: Oh heck, I do write this about once a year, for shinysilvergrl's birthday - at this rate, it should be finished by 2022. Aaaaaaaaaaa. Happy birthday, shinysilvergrl!
Valentines series:
1: Intruder Alert
2: Sweet, Cute, Tacky
3: Days Of Wine And Roses
4: Unprofessional
5: Etiquette
6: Four's Company
7: The Wrong Man
8: The Kirk Syndrome
9: White. Silk. Underwear.
10: Slow Evolution
11: Settling In
12: Necking
Will make no sense without reading those others first, but if this is a new story to you and you're thinking of reading it, a warning: I've been writing this since about when I started in the fandom. I have a serious problem with WIPs. I am truly sorry about that.
---
She took a look inside, and found he was already there, feet propped up on the furniture, hands carelessly fiddling with something terribly breakable. Typical. It was absolutely typical of him. He had a knack of making himself comfortable wherever he was, be it camping off-world, in a Goa'uld jail cell, in a high-level debriefing, in her lab... or in the back of her mind.
She gave a mental glare to the mental image of the Colonel, hoping he'd get the hint and depart her brain, let her get on with some work. The image smirked back at her. Gah. Even in her own mind, he was a smug son of a...
"Carter!"
She leaped about a foot into the air, turned quickly, and narrowly avoided falling off her lab stool. "Sir!"
The real thing was smirking at her from the doorway of her lab. "Graceful," he remarked.
She had to repress a strong urge to throw something at him. No doubt he thought he was hilarious. "Something I can do for you, sir?" she said, hoping he'd get the message with her overly polite tone.
"Eh." He waved his hands, his eyes wandering restlessly around the room, looking for a diversion. "I needed a break. Thought I'd come and... supervise you."
Well, typical. He couldn't concentrate, so why should she be allowed to get on with some work? That was just so... so...
She really shouldn't find it endearing.
She turned back to her work - what was she doing, anyhow? Oh, yes, writing up her report on P5H 756 - and hid the smile she couldn't seem to repress. "I'm very busy, sir."
"Yeah? Because it looked to me like you spent the last five minutes staring at that wall over there." He pointed helpfully at the wall in question. "Is there something scientific happening to it? Is it doing something... polysyllabic? Is it going to explode?"
She gave him an odd look from the corner of her eye. "You were watching me?"
His smug look disappeared. Busted. "Uh... no," he blatantly lied.
"For five minutes?"
"No!"
Was she looking smug, now? She certainly felt smug. "Okay. If you say so. Sir." At least she had the sense to do her staring in the privacy of her own head. She typed a few random words into her report, trying to look industrious. Not that she should be staring, of course. She typed some more words. But he was like a puzzle, and she'd always been compelled to take puzzles apart and put them back together until she'd understood completely how they worked. She typed some more. Ooh, taking the Colonel apart, piece by piece - now there was a thought...
"Is that your report on 756?" Suddenly he was leaning over her shoulder, reading what was on her screen, and although she slammed down the laptop screen as quickly as she could, she just knew he'd spotted what her treacherous fingers had just been typing. Colonel Jack O'Neill Jack O'Neill Jack Jack Jack... "That's your report?" he asked softly, right next to her ear.
Her eyes wanted to flutter shut, but she forced them to stay open. "I... it was just... random stuff."
"Yeah?" She could feel the warmth he radiated as he stood close behind her. God, he smelled good. "I believe I owe you dinner, Sam," he said, softly, his breath tickling her neck. She had to swallow before she could speak.
"Well, you lost the bet," she agreed, the words coming out a good deal more throatily that she'd intended. She'd kicked his ass at the range. But she was very grateful that Daniel had interrupted before it occurred to the Colonel to challenge her to a rematch: given his effect on her right now, she was pretty sure he had the ability to distract her as thoroughly as she'd distracted him. And he seemed to be relishing that fact right now, drawing out the silence and the tension between them as much as was possible, given their location.
"Mm-hmm. You free tomorrow night? My place?"
"Tomorrow night? Your place?" Damn, she sounded like a parrot, but the idea of idea of actually going through with it had sent an illicit thrill sizzling through her body, frying a few brain cells. If he was like this on base, under the chaperonage of the cameras, what would he be like when they were alone? Unobserved? In his house? A scant few yards from his bedroom?
Dinner, she reminded herself. It's just dinner. It'sjustdinnerit'sjustdinnerit'sjustdinnerit'sjustdinnerit'sjustdinner...
Repeating her mantra, she managed to say: "Um. Yeah. I think I'm free." Quite honestly, she might have had a prior engagement to dine with the President tomorrow night and she wouldn't have been able to remember it at that moment. The President would just have to cope without her.
"Nineteen-hundred?"
She was busily trying to ignore the impulse to turn in her chair and see if he would back away - or not. "I, uh... That sounds fine," she said, distractedly. Dammit, she really, really wanted to... end that thought right there, she told herself, ruthlessly reining in her imagination.
Apparently they were on the same page, because he drew in a sharp breath and stood up, stepping back swiftly. "Good. Okay. Um. I'd better let you get on with your... work," he said, tightly. She risked a glance in his direction. He was avoiding her eyes, and looking distinctly warm. Hot, even. Very, very...
"I'd better get on with my work," she said quickly, then realised she was parroting again. "Um. Reports to write, sir, you know how it is."
"Yeah. I hear your boss is a real hard-ass," he joked, trying - somewhat lamely - for a normal tone.
"Mmm," she agreed. "He can be a real..." His eyes snapped to hers, and raised his eyebrows challengingly. She left the sentence unfinished, and grinned at him.
"Thinking of superior officers, Hammond's put the debrief back an hour. I'm gonna go tell T and Daniel."
That was his excuse for taking a wander around the Mountain? She pointed at something to his left, and he turned to look. "It's called a phone, sir."
He shrugged unconcernedly. "Now where's the fun in that?" he asked, running his eyes over her in a way that had never failed to annoy her for the first month or so of working with him. After a while, she'd stopped noticing that he did it. And then she'd started noticing again, with altogether different emotions.
Oh, this was such a bad idea.
She opened her mouth to tell him so, but he'd already turned away. "See ya later, Sam," he called back, waving as he disappeared.
She blew out a breath, instead, and opened her laptop again, swiftly deleting the incriminating words. Damn him. Why did he have to be so... so unnecessarily attractive? She began to type in earnest, but in the back of her mind, her mental Colonel settled in for the duration. It was a good thing that she was able to switch her mind to work so easily.
The mental image of the Colonel raised his eyebrows.
Okay, it was a good thing she was so good at multitasking, then, she conceded. Otherwise she'd never get anything done, with all his interruptions - both real and imaginary. Not that the Colonel would read any of this. The majority of her report was written for the benefit of her science colleagues. The bulleted summary at the end was about all that Colonel O'Neill - or General Hammond, for that matter - wanted to see: 1) The soil samples she'd collected all showed signs of agricultural usage, dating back at least a few hundred years. 2) The Goa'uld weren't there. Therefore, 3) it was a very, very boring farm planet. But, on the bright side, it had been a nice place for a picnic. And really quite pretty, if you liked endless rolling fields of grass. Like Kansas, as the Colonel had pointed out.
Apparently he thought his Wizard of Oz references got funnier with repetition.
She really didn't mind that they wouldn't read her whole report. The details weren't really intended for them. It was good to know that her commanding officers trusted her judgement on what information was relevant. Yes, SG-1 was a fantastic assignment, and she'd enjoy every second of it, whilst she could.
She reflected over the conversation she'd had with Daniel, yesterday. Sometimes she forgot how unfamiliar he was with military procedure - he seemed to have got it into his head that SG-1 would somehow carry on ad infinitum. Perhaps because all his plans for the future were up in the air whilst his wife's fate was still uncertain.
Sam herself had gotten so used to the regular moving when she was a kid, and then again as an adult, that it was ingrained. Habit never allowed her to get too attached to a particular set of circumstances; but, of all her assignments, she knew she'd miss this one the most.
Of course, there would be certain advantages to not being under Colonel O'Neill's command any more...
Her inner Colonel smirked - and she smirked right back at him.
---
TBC!
Author: Pepper
Rating: G
Summary: Typical. It was absolutely typical of him.
Season: One
Pairing(s): Sam/Jack
A/N: Oh heck, I do write this about once a year, for shinysilvergrl's birthday - at this rate, it should be finished by 2022. Aaaaaaaaaaa. Happy birthday, shinysilvergrl!
Valentines series:
1: Intruder Alert
2: Sweet, Cute, Tacky
3: Days Of Wine And Roses
4: Unprofessional
5: Etiquette
6: Four's Company
7: The Wrong Man
8: The Kirk Syndrome
9: White. Silk. Underwear.
10: Slow Evolution
11: Settling In
12: Necking
Will make no sense without reading those others first, but if this is a new story to you and you're thinking of reading it, a warning: I've been writing this since about when I started in the fandom. I have a serious problem with WIPs. I am truly sorry about that.
---
She took a look inside, and found he was already there, feet propped up on the furniture, hands carelessly fiddling with something terribly breakable. Typical. It was absolutely typical of him. He had a knack of making himself comfortable wherever he was, be it camping off-world, in a Goa'uld jail cell, in a high-level debriefing, in her lab... or in the back of her mind.
She gave a mental glare to the mental image of the Colonel, hoping he'd get the hint and depart her brain, let her get on with some work. The image smirked back at her. Gah. Even in her own mind, he was a smug son of a...
"Carter!"
She leaped about a foot into the air, turned quickly, and narrowly avoided falling off her lab stool. "Sir!"
The real thing was smirking at her from the doorway of her lab. "Graceful," he remarked.
She had to repress a strong urge to throw something at him. No doubt he thought he was hilarious. "Something I can do for you, sir?" she said, hoping he'd get the message with her overly polite tone.
"Eh." He waved his hands, his eyes wandering restlessly around the room, looking for a diversion. "I needed a break. Thought I'd come and... supervise you."
Well, typical. He couldn't concentrate, so why should she be allowed to get on with some work? That was just so... so...
She really shouldn't find it endearing.
She turned back to her work - what was she doing, anyhow? Oh, yes, writing up her report on P5H 756 - and hid the smile she couldn't seem to repress. "I'm very busy, sir."
"Yeah? Because it looked to me like you spent the last five minutes staring at that wall over there." He pointed helpfully at the wall in question. "Is there something scientific happening to it? Is it doing something... polysyllabic? Is it going to explode?"
She gave him an odd look from the corner of her eye. "You were watching me?"
His smug look disappeared. Busted. "Uh... no," he blatantly lied.
"For five minutes?"
"No!"
Was she looking smug, now? She certainly felt smug. "Okay. If you say so. Sir." At least she had the sense to do her staring in the privacy of her own head. She typed a few random words into her report, trying to look industrious. Not that she should be staring, of course. She typed some more words. But he was like a puzzle, and she'd always been compelled to take puzzles apart and put them back together until she'd understood completely how they worked. She typed some more. Ooh, taking the Colonel apart, piece by piece - now there was a thought...
"Is that your report on 756?" Suddenly he was leaning over her shoulder, reading what was on her screen, and although she slammed down the laptop screen as quickly as she could, she just knew he'd spotted what her treacherous fingers had just been typing. Colonel Jack O'Neill Jack O'Neill Jack Jack Jack... "That's your report?" he asked softly, right next to her ear.
Her eyes wanted to flutter shut, but she forced them to stay open. "I... it was just... random stuff."
"Yeah?" She could feel the warmth he radiated as he stood close behind her. God, he smelled good. "I believe I owe you dinner, Sam," he said, softly, his breath tickling her neck. She had to swallow before she could speak.
"Well, you lost the bet," she agreed, the words coming out a good deal more throatily that she'd intended. She'd kicked his ass at the range. But she was very grateful that Daniel had interrupted before it occurred to the Colonel to challenge her to a rematch: given his effect on her right now, she was pretty sure he had the ability to distract her as thoroughly as she'd distracted him. And he seemed to be relishing that fact right now, drawing out the silence and the tension between them as much as was possible, given their location.
"Mm-hmm. You free tomorrow night? My place?"
"Tomorrow night? Your place?" Damn, she sounded like a parrot, but the idea of idea of actually going through with it had sent an illicit thrill sizzling through her body, frying a few brain cells. If he was like this on base, under the chaperonage of the cameras, what would he be like when they were alone? Unobserved? In his house? A scant few yards from his bedroom?
Dinner, she reminded herself. It's just dinner. It'sjustdinnerit'sjustdinnerit'sjustdinnerit'sjustdinnerit'sjustdinner...
Repeating her mantra, she managed to say: "Um. Yeah. I think I'm free." Quite honestly, she might have had a prior engagement to dine with the President tomorrow night and she wouldn't have been able to remember it at that moment. The President would just have to cope without her.
"Nineteen-hundred?"
She was busily trying to ignore the impulse to turn in her chair and see if he would back away - or not. "I, uh... That sounds fine," she said, distractedly. Dammit, she really, really wanted to... end that thought right there, she told herself, ruthlessly reining in her imagination.
Apparently they were on the same page, because he drew in a sharp breath and stood up, stepping back swiftly. "Good. Okay. Um. I'd better let you get on with your... work," he said, tightly. She risked a glance in his direction. He was avoiding her eyes, and looking distinctly warm. Hot, even. Very, very...
"I'd better get on with my work," she said quickly, then realised she was parroting again. "Um. Reports to write, sir, you know how it is."
"Yeah. I hear your boss is a real hard-ass," he joked, trying - somewhat lamely - for a normal tone.
"Mmm," she agreed. "He can be a real..." His eyes snapped to hers, and raised his eyebrows challengingly. She left the sentence unfinished, and grinned at him.
"Thinking of superior officers, Hammond's put the debrief back an hour. I'm gonna go tell T and Daniel."
That was his excuse for taking a wander around the Mountain? She pointed at something to his left, and he turned to look. "It's called a phone, sir."
He shrugged unconcernedly. "Now where's the fun in that?" he asked, running his eyes over her in a way that had never failed to annoy her for the first month or so of working with him. After a while, she'd stopped noticing that he did it. And then she'd started noticing again, with altogether different emotions.
Oh, this was such a bad idea.
She opened her mouth to tell him so, but he'd already turned away. "See ya later, Sam," he called back, waving as he disappeared.
She blew out a breath, instead, and opened her laptop again, swiftly deleting the incriminating words. Damn him. Why did he have to be so... so unnecessarily attractive? She began to type in earnest, but in the back of her mind, her mental Colonel settled in for the duration. It was a good thing that she was able to switch her mind to work so easily.
The mental image of the Colonel raised his eyebrows.
Okay, it was a good thing she was so good at multitasking, then, she conceded. Otherwise she'd never get anything done, with all his interruptions - both real and imaginary. Not that the Colonel would read any of this. The majority of her report was written for the benefit of her science colleagues. The bulleted summary at the end was about all that Colonel O'Neill - or General Hammond, for that matter - wanted to see: 1) The soil samples she'd collected all showed signs of agricultural usage, dating back at least a few hundred years. 2) The Goa'uld weren't there. Therefore, 3) it was a very, very boring farm planet. But, on the bright side, it had been a nice place for a picnic. And really quite pretty, if you liked endless rolling fields of grass. Like Kansas, as the Colonel had pointed out.
Apparently he thought his Wizard of Oz references got funnier with repetition.
She really didn't mind that they wouldn't read her whole report. The details weren't really intended for them. It was good to know that her commanding officers trusted her judgement on what information was relevant. Yes, SG-1 was a fantastic assignment, and she'd enjoy every second of it, whilst she could.
She reflected over the conversation she'd had with Daniel, yesterday. Sometimes she forgot how unfamiliar he was with military procedure - he seemed to have got it into his head that SG-1 would somehow carry on ad infinitum. Perhaps because all his plans for the future were up in the air whilst his wife's fate was still uncertain.
Sam herself had gotten so used to the regular moving when she was a kid, and then again as an adult, that it was ingrained. Habit never allowed her to get too attached to a particular set of circumstances; but, of all her assignments, she knew she'd miss this one the most.
Of course, there would be certain advantages to not being under Colonel O'Neill's command any more...
Her inner Colonel smirked - and she smirked right back at him.
---
TBC!