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starrybouquet · 4 years

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Of Blues and Brains and Bubbles

Her mind has clamped onto that hint of despondency she’d seen on his face with a single-minded determination it usually reserves for the thorniest of physics problems, and no amount of logical thought, of reminding herself that Jack O'Neill is her commanding officer and a perfectly self-sufficient man who doesn't need or want her comfort, has been enough to shake the suspicion that she needs to check up on him.

It's ironic. She's the one still on bed rest, after all.

A Grace fix-it fic, because I wanted to write a smart, perceptive Sam figuring it out.

Read on AO3 or under the cut:

Sam sits on her sofa, only half listening to Daniel's enthusiastic chatter. She's not trying to be a bad friend, but she can't get Jack--the Colonel’s--face out of her head. Not his face from this afternoon, when he’d shown up with sarcasm and joviality firmly in place, but when she’d woken up in the infirmary. The look in his eyes when he’d been offering to get her something, and she’d refused. He’d looked down at her seriously, for a beat, and then his mouth had quirked up into a tiny half smile.

She knows, knows that she can't read anything into it. But despite her repeated attempts to talk herself down, she keeps seeing that slightly sad half smile and his brown eyes. She's sure that she’s overthinking this, that she just made it up, but despite her conviction, she can't help but see dejection lurking behind his expression in her mind's eye.

And goddamn it all, but she still has the stupidest urge to comfort him. Her mind has clamped onto that hint of despondency she’d seen on his face with a single-minded determination it usually reserves for the thorniest of physics problems, and no amount of logical thought, of reminding herself that Jack O'Neill is her commanding officer and a perfectly self-sufficient man who doesn't need or want her comfort, has been enough to shake the suspicion that she needs to check up on him.

It's ironic. She's the one still on bed rest, after all. Which is exactly why she’s lying on her sofa while Colonel O’Neill does the dishes, Teal’c makes her bed, and Daniel tries to distract her until her meds kick in.

Yeah. She has the best team in the world.

But her helplessness is also why Sam is also too tired to continue fighting with herself like this. She had already made a fool of herself when she called him Jack in the infirmary. What was once more?

"Daniel?" she asks as he finishes up his impromptu lecture and gathers up his coat.

"Yeah?"

"Can you, uh, do me a favor? Can you ask Colonel O'Neill to drop by the living room before he heads out?" she asks awkwardly.

Daniel blinks, eyes wide behind his glasses. "Sure."

Fifteen minutes later, after Daniel has pulled out of her driveway with Teal’c in tow, a very familiar silver head pokes into the living room. "Carter?"

She turns. "Sir.”

He steps fully into the room and shoves his hands into his jean pockets, looking a little awkward. "Uh--Daniel said--you wanted to see me?"

Sam nods, stares at her hands. Now that he's here, in front of her, brown eyes hesitant, a touch concerned, she finds she has absolutely no idea how to phrase this.

"I just wanted to ask…” She shakes her head, cheeks reddening. “Are you okay?"

"You're the one who got knocked in the head." Jack quirks an eyebrow at her.

This was going about as badly as she'd thought it would. "I know, sir, I just...just, I probably made it up, but you seemed depressed when I woke up and you weren't exactly acting like yourself--I mean, you were, but it was like you were trying.”

His expression only grows more perplexed. Time to backtrack. “And...this is completely inappropriate, you're my CO, you don't need to explain yourself to me. Can we please just pretend I never said anything. Sir."

Jack continues to stare at her after the words finally stop coming out of her mouth, part shocked, part confused. Mostly shocked, Sam thinks, feeling more flustered than she’s felt in front of him in years.

But then he shakes his head, and his entire countenance softens. "Can't hide anything from you, huh, Carter?"

It's her turn to be surprised. Jack steps around the sofa until he's standing beside her, looking down, gaze fastened on her socked feet as if he’s avoiding making eye contact. His body is rigid, as if he’s trying to take up as little space in her living room as possible.

"I went a little crazy when you were missing," he says tightly. "And when you woke up--I couldn't help it. I'm sorry I didn’t leave it alone. I know we said we'd leave it in the room, and I know it's unprofessional to keep asking, and I swear to God, Carter, I promise--"

Sam feels her stomach do a somersault, and it feels like her head is spinning too. "Couldn't help what?" she interrupts confusedly.

His fingers fidgets with the trim of the sofa arm. "I asked if you needed me, if you wanted to take it out of the room." he mutters. "Again."

Dumbfounded, she can only stare at him. "You did?"

The look in his dark eyes as he nods is so painfully uncomfortable, so ashamed, that it jolts Sam out of her shocked stupor. She sits up carefully and pries Jack’s hand off the sofa, pulling him down to sit beside her.

"Jack," she says, and feels his body jolt at her use of his given name. "I didn't know that's what you meant."

Jack stares at her. "It hasn't been obvious?"

"You want...us," she reiterates, gesturing between them.

“For crying out loud, Carter, I’ve wanted ‘us’ for years! It takes a lot less brains than you’ve got to figure that one out!”

Sam feels a bubble of happiness rise in her chest, and she can’t help but let out a giggle and lean into his side. Usually, she hates making mistakes, misunderstanding people (numbers are so much easier) but this time, she only feels an absurd amount of relief. Jack wraps an arm around her and pulls her against his side snugly.

When the giggles subside, she smiles up at him, and he grins back and musses her hair with his free hand. “Glad we got that figured out,” he says warmly. “So...does this mean I can stop avoiding having ‘that talk’ with Hammond?”

She feels a sharp dose of reality prod at that bubble of happiness. “I don’t want you to leave the team.”

“Oh, not that talk. Just the one where he makes me sit down, starts saying he’s mentioned SG-1’s unique team...stuff...to the Joint Chiefs, and I hightail it out of there.”

Sam stares at him. Maybe seven years of fighting the Goa’uld have finally taken their toll, or maybe it’s just that her bubble refuses to be popped, but she can’t help but laugh again. “You’re a chickenshit, sir.”

Jack sighs. “With...feeling...feelings? Yeah. Other than the knees, and the gray, it’s one of the reasons--”

She slaps his shoulder. “Stop it. It’s one of the things I love about you. That you’re as much of disaster when it comes to relationships as I am. I don’t have to be worried about messing up.”

His arm freezes around her. “Jack?”

“D-did you mean that?” Brown eyes search hers.

Sam replays her words in her head. Oh. She reaches up and cups his cheek in her palm, relishing the play of his five o’clock shadow over her fingers. “Yes. I love you, Jack O’Neill.”

The adoration that rains down from Jack’s answering smile makes Sam’s heart fill to bursting, and she feels the happiness spill over as he leans forward and gives her the softest, most delicate kiss she’s ever received.

“In case there was any doubt, Carter,” Jack whispers, “I love you too.”

He hugs her then, pulling her down on the couch until he’s half-sitting, half-lying against the sofa arm and she’s curled into him. Jack’s arms are around her waist and his lips are in her hair and Sam hugs him back for all she’s worth. She’s never felt so cared for, so safe, so content.

Sam’s not sure how long they lay there, the only sounds their breathing and the quiet tick of the clock on the mantel, just relishing in the peace of the moment. Her meds have definitely kicked in and the warmth of Jack’s body is making her drowsy, but if they fall asleep here, they’ll probably both be unable to move tomorrow.

She raises her head. “Jack, let me up,” she says softly.

They untangle themselves until they’re sitting side by side on the couch again, hands still entwined.

“I know you want to talk to Hammond about this before we do...other things.”

“Yeah, I’d bet my truck that he’s got something up his sleeve.” Jack wiggles his eyebrows. “Not that I don’t want to do ‘other things’, but…”

Sam throws him an acknowledging grin. “We owe it to him.” She looks down, takes a deep breath, looks back up. “Even so, would you...stay? Just to sleep?”

Jack smiles that adoring smile again, and she feels her heart melt. “Of course, Carter.”

And he does.

#sam x jack #stargate sg1 #fanfic #sg1 fanfic #sg1 #my fic #my blogstuffs

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