Sam and her boys, 5c1: Attachment, PG13, Sam/Jack/Siler
Back to Chapter 5c: Learning
or to Chapter 1 for info
To read it all the chapters on one page, click here
Summary: Clothes make the man
Chapter 5c1: Attachment (PG13)
yes it's self-indulgent sappiness. what of it?
Shrugging his shoulders to settle the too-large shirt, Siler's fingers stilled for a minute as he smiled tiredly to himself. He had at least a couple of its twins at his place; outdated, much less worn, and two sizes smaller, but otherwise identical.
Except that he didn't breathe them in on the rare occasions that he wore them, or mentally feel as though someone had thrown an arm over his shoulders; or automatically stroke the material... christ, maybe bringing a spare uniform with him wasn't so bad. Was he really turning into this much of a sap at this late date? And over **Jack O'Neill** of all people?
Shaking his head, he got back to buttoning up, then looked for the dirty clothes he barely remembered leaving around the room when they'd come upstairs earlier. Come to think of it... hadn't he left a jumpsuit here that first time Jack had lent him clothes? And again when... damn, no wonder he was down to his last one. And that probably meant he needed to gather up Jack's BDUs before they ended up in the wrong hands.
Hearing the sound of the front door opening, he idly headed down the stairs, half-assedly debating what to have for breakfast and studiously ignoring the fact that his fingers were still playing with the shirt-tail he'd left loose. Sap.
Though he really *had* to grin when he heard Jack actually whistling cheerily -if badly- as he stepped around the kitchen putting groceries away.
Standing in the doorway, unseen, Siler was surprised at the surge of affection that flickered through him as he watched the retired general putter around so cheerfully. For just a second, before he managed to bury it back away, he *wanted* those years together that Jack had threatened.
Pushing away from both the thought and the wall, Siler strolled into the kitchen with a forcibly casual "Good morn- err.. afternoon."
That he couldn't manage to resist returning Jack's welcoming grin was something else he buried, instead walking over and reaching one hand up to take advantage of Jack's half-open shirt to slide under and cup his shoulder in a more intimate version of the grasp the two of them seemed to often use for 'hello'.
"Hey. Sleep well?"
The question passed him unnoticed; the skin contact felt good, too addicting, too necessary, but undeniably *good*. And Siler's attention wandered even more as his wrist dislodged the shirt away from Jack's shoulder.
"...You enjoyed doing that entirely too much, sergeant."
Siler finally looked up with a distracted hum, fingers making lazy little back and forth sweeps over the deepening bruise he'd exposed, smiling a little. Catching the sardonic look being aimed at him, he swallowed his incipient grin, trying to keep a straight face, "So did you."
Jack rolled his eyes, shoulder shrugging, though Siler could read laughter under the affronted put-on and grumpy words, "Was just humouring y-"
Siler's crack of disbelieving laughter interrupted him and Jack lost even the *train* of the thought, listening to the rare sound of joy and watching the man's full-out smile with pleasure. Siler's touch had dropped from his shoulder as the sergeant shook with the guffaws and Jack reached out gently to wrap a palm along the side of his neck, guiding Si's head slightly up, and then closer as his sergeant found his self-control. At the last minute, Jack shifted away from the kiss and closed his teeth on one of his lover's earlobes, grinning at the gasp he got in return.
####
Glancing at his watch idly as the commercials started, Siler groaned, mentally grumbling: so much for not spending all day here. He got up from the couch quickly, stopping to stretch his shoulder out, "I gotta go home and get dressed."
The kitchen sex -minus biting- and subsequent starved snack-out and couch-potatoing had made him forget his earlier mental note about getting his laundry sorted out, but now he glanced at Jack, "Got my dirty jumpsuits somewhere? Realized earlier that I've left a few here."
Jack sent him a puzzled look, distracted by the return on screen of Uma in The avengers, "Why would you need to go to your place when you have uniforms in the closet?"
"The closet?" Movements slowed, Siler winced at his own words, hearing how dumb they sounded.
Jack's wry smirk confirmed it. "The. closet," Siler gave him a flat-eyed look for the slow words and wriggly fingers that called him a child, "That. is. in. our. bedroom."
"Jack." Not knowing what to say beyond the choked reproof, Siler stood stiffly, watching his lover get up as he tried to silence the small mental voice feeling oddly included in that 'our'. It was a silly idea... But it was somehow easier to focus on than the strange concept of his clothes in someone else's closet.
Jack casually covered the distance between them, laying his hands on Siler's shoulders and keeping their eyes locked. The humour was gone, replaced with a stubborn patience that made Siler wince and feel all of twelve years old as he recognized it from the first morning he woke up here. Hadn't he said *then* that he was crap at relationships?
Keeping his voice calm and quiet, Jack carefully stepped into the relationship minefield again, knowing he didn't have a choice; the rewards meant too much to him. "The flightsuits you've left here are clean and hanging in the closet." He slid his hands along Siler's shoulders to his neck, needing skin contact as he kept what he hoped was a reassuring look in his eyes; too aware of the man's tension and the twitchy uncertainty in his expression. And he'd thought *Samantha* was nervous when they'd first moved in together... "Sam uses the left side, I have the right. I've been putting your stuff in the middle," he grinned a little dopily, "Well, it's more like three-quarters to the right of the space available, but you'll be able to tell where Carter's clothes end." He watched Siler's tiny smile at the loving tease of their lady, aware that he was still stiff. "Underthings went to the side of my drawer." He kept forgetting to clear one of the others to make room, actually, but he had a feeling that that would sound too permanent right now, so he kept the thought to himself, gently tugging on Si's bicep instead to get him moving up the stairs, "Come on, I'll show you."
The traipse to their bedroom was very silent, but Jack consciously refrained from either fussing or trying to fill it. He and Sam had indeed had *years* to mentally -emotionally- find their footing together; and accept that they *wanted* to share a home. If Siler had really been that good at keeping all his relationships casual, there was no way he'd just suddenly be fine with the thought of settling down with them.
"Top left drawer."
Following the nod of Jack's head to the tall dresser, Siler still felt weirdly bemused at the situation, aware of Jack opening the closet behind him. Wearing the general's BDUs when they'd been left out for him... was suddenly very easy to deal with; compared to opening his old commander's underwear drawer and hesitating as he reached in. Siler pulled out a pair of briefs, realizing he hadn't really noticed what Jack wore. "Err, these yours or mi-" he swore softly, surprised when he started to turn and found Jack at his shoulder.
Grinning faintly, Jack gave the cotton a cursory glance, "Yours," he reached past Siler's still twitchy form and pulled a pair of boxers from the other end, "Mine." Old and loose compared to the newer, more stylish and tight-fitting pair in Si's hand, the difference was obvious. "Your shirts are underneath."
Wincingly meeting Jack's eyes, Siler half-expected to find laughter at his hesitant behaviour. The flash of.. tenderness? he caught before it vanished just about shocked him. Thankfully, Jack replaced it with a teasing grin, and Siler scrambled to bury his response to the surprising softness.
"Fancy underwear, sergeant. Work for you?"
Siler managed a snort, swallowing and hoping his voice wouldn't play up on him, "If you feel you need underwear to do the work, general..."
"Hey, *I'm* the one with the *practical* shorts."
Relaxing in the familiar territory of teasing each other, Siler grinned back, "There's nothing impractical about clothes that actually fit, Jack," he let his eyes cruise down the half-undone, three sizes too large shirt and baggy slacks the man wore, "Should try them sometime."
Jack snickered, "Can't. Risk causing a riot as you all try to fondle me at the same time."
Goto Chapter 5d: Caveman (PG13)
or to Chapter 1 for info
To read it all the chapters on one page, click here
Summary: Clothes make the man
Chapter 5c1: Attachment (PG13)
yes it's self-indulgent sappiness. what of it?
Shrugging his shoulders to settle the too-large shirt, Siler's fingers stilled for a minute as he smiled tiredly to himself. He had at least a couple of its twins at his place; outdated, much less worn, and two sizes smaller, but otherwise identical.
Except that he didn't breathe them in on the rare occasions that he wore them, or mentally feel as though someone had thrown an arm over his shoulders; or automatically stroke the material... christ, maybe bringing a spare uniform with him wasn't so bad. Was he really turning into this much of a sap at this late date? And over **Jack O'Neill** of all people?
Shaking his head, he got back to buttoning up, then looked for the dirty clothes he barely remembered leaving around the room when they'd come upstairs earlier. Come to think of it... hadn't he left a jumpsuit here that first time Jack had lent him clothes? And again when... damn, no wonder he was down to his last one. And that probably meant he needed to gather up Jack's BDUs before they ended up in the wrong hands.
Hearing the sound of the front door opening, he idly headed down the stairs, half-assedly debating what to have for breakfast and studiously ignoring the fact that his fingers were still playing with the shirt-tail he'd left loose. Sap.
Though he really *had* to grin when he heard Jack actually whistling cheerily -if badly- as he stepped around the kitchen putting groceries away.
Standing in the doorway, unseen, Siler was surprised at the surge of affection that flickered through him as he watched the retired general putter around so cheerfully. For just a second, before he managed to bury it back away, he *wanted* those years together that Jack had threatened.
Pushing away from both the thought and the wall, Siler strolled into the kitchen with a forcibly casual "Good morn- err.. afternoon."
That he couldn't manage to resist returning Jack's welcoming grin was something else he buried, instead walking over and reaching one hand up to take advantage of Jack's half-open shirt to slide under and cup his shoulder in a more intimate version of the grasp the two of them seemed to often use for 'hello'.
"Hey. Sleep well?"
The question passed him unnoticed; the skin contact felt good, too addicting, too necessary, but undeniably *good*. And Siler's attention wandered even more as his wrist dislodged the shirt away from Jack's shoulder.
"...You enjoyed doing that entirely too much, sergeant."
Siler finally looked up with a distracted hum, fingers making lazy little back and forth sweeps over the deepening bruise he'd exposed, smiling a little. Catching the sardonic look being aimed at him, he swallowed his incipient grin, trying to keep a straight face, "So did you."
Jack rolled his eyes, shoulder shrugging, though Siler could read laughter under the affronted put-on and grumpy words, "Was just humouring y-"
Siler's crack of disbelieving laughter interrupted him and Jack lost even the *train* of the thought, listening to the rare sound of joy and watching the man's full-out smile with pleasure. Siler's touch had dropped from his shoulder as the sergeant shook with the guffaws and Jack reached out gently to wrap a palm along the side of his neck, guiding Si's head slightly up, and then closer as his sergeant found his self-control. At the last minute, Jack shifted away from the kiss and closed his teeth on one of his lover's earlobes, grinning at the gasp he got in return.
####
Glancing at his watch idly as the commercials started, Siler groaned, mentally grumbling: so much for not spending all day here. He got up from the couch quickly, stopping to stretch his shoulder out, "I gotta go home and get dressed."
The kitchen sex -minus biting- and subsequent starved snack-out and couch-potatoing had made him forget his earlier mental note about getting his laundry sorted out, but now he glanced at Jack, "Got my dirty jumpsuits somewhere? Realized earlier that I've left a few here."
Jack sent him a puzzled look, distracted by the return on screen of Uma in The avengers, "Why would you need to go to your place when you have uniforms in the closet?"
"The closet?" Movements slowed, Siler winced at his own words, hearing how dumb they sounded.
Jack's wry smirk confirmed it. "The. closet," Siler gave him a flat-eyed look for the slow words and wriggly fingers that called him a child, "That. is. in. our. bedroom."
"Jack." Not knowing what to say beyond the choked reproof, Siler stood stiffly, watching his lover get up as he tried to silence the small mental voice feeling oddly included in that 'our'. It was a silly idea... But it was somehow easier to focus on than the strange concept of his clothes in someone else's closet.
Jack casually covered the distance between them, laying his hands on Siler's shoulders and keeping their eyes locked. The humour was gone, replaced with a stubborn patience that made Siler wince and feel all of twelve years old as he recognized it from the first morning he woke up here. Hadn't he said *then* that he was crap at relationships?
Keeping his voice calm and quiet, Jack carefully stepped into the relationship minefield again, knowing he didn't have a choice; the rewards meant too much to him. "The flightsuits you've left here are clean and hanging in the closet." He slid his hands along Siler's shoulders to his neck, needing skin contact as he kept what he hoped was a reassuring look in his eyes; too aware of the man's tension and the twitchy uncertainty in his expression. And he'd thought *Samantha* was nervous when they'd first moved in together... "Sam uses the left side, I have the right. I've been putting your stuff in the middle," he grinned a little dopily, "Well, it's more like three-quarters to the right of the space available, but you'll be able to tell where Carter's clothes end." He watched Siler's tiny smile at the loving tease of their lady, aware that he was still stiff. "Underthings went to the side of my drawer." He kept forgetting to clear one of the others to make room, actually, but he had a feeling that that would sound too permanent right now, so he kept the thought to himself, gently tugging on Si's bicep instead to get him moving up the stairs, "Come on, I'll show you."
The traipse to their bedroom was very silent, but Jack consciously refrained from either fussing or trying to fill it. He and Sam had indeed had *years* to mentally -emotionally- find their footing together; and accept that they *wanted* to share a home. If Siler had really been that good at keeping all his relationships casual, there was no way he'd just suddenly be fine with the thought of settling down with them.
"Top left drawer."
Following the nod of Jack's head to the tall dresser, Siler still felt weirdly bemused at the situation, aware of Jack opening the closet behind him. Wearing the general's BDUs when they'd been left out for him... was suddenly very easy to deal with; compared to opening his old commander's underwear drawer and hesitating as he reached in. Siler pulled out a pair of briefs, realizing he hadn't really noticed what Jack wore. "Err, these yours or mi-" he swore softly, surprised when he started to turn and found Jack at his shoulder.
Grinning faintly, Jack gave the cotton a cursory glance, "Yours," he reached past Siler's still twitchy form and pulled a pair of boxers from the other end, "Mine." Old and loose compared to the newer, more stylish and tight-fitting pair in Si's hand, the difference was obvious. "Your shirts are underneath."
Wincingly meeting Jack's eyes, Siler half-expected to find laughter at his hesitant behaviour. The flash of.. tenderness? he caught before it vanished just about shocked him. Thankfully, Jack replaced it with a teasing grin, and Siler scrambled to bury his response to the surprising softness.
"Fancy underwear, sergeant. Work for you?"
Siler managed a snort, swallowing and hoping his voice wouldn't play up on him, "If you feel you need underwear to do the work, general..."
"Hey, *I'm* the one with the *practical* shorts."
Relaxing in the familiar territory of teasing each other, Siler grinned back, "There's nothing impractical about clothes that actually fit, Jack," he let his eyes cruise down the half-undone, three sizes too large shirt and baggy slacks the man wore, "Should try them sometime."
Jack snickered, "Can't. Risk causing a riot as you all try to fondle me at the same time."
Goto Chapter 5d: Caveman (PG13)