Birthdays! And birthday fic.
Aug. 22nd, 2009 10:51 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
mrspollifaxIt's the end of summer! And we're frantically having as much vacation and pool time as possible around here. *g* But I need to take a short break from my fannish hibernation to wish a very, very, VERY happy birthday to my girls ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
a_loquita and binkii822. I hope you are both having a wonderful time this weekend, and whenever you happen to get back to a keyboard, look! I wrote you fic. :)
Hugs and smooches and other embarrassing, sappy things to you both.
Title: Dimensionless Quantities
Rating: Adult
Characters/Pairing: Sam/Jack
Season/Episode: SGA 3x10-11, The Return
Genre: Angst.
Word Count: ~1800
Summary: After all these years, it's simply a matter of course. Like the diagnostic she's currently executing, like mortal peril, like coming home at the end of the day - everything about this situation ought to be a matter of course by now. Post-ep for SGA 3x10-11, The Return.
A/N: Special thanks toziparumpazoo for putting up with ridiculous amounts of panicky flailing about this fic. And for being generally fabulous. And for beta reading. *g*
Puddlejumpers are too big for the gate room.
The thought's absurd, but as she stares at the hovering ship that fills the space between gate and wall, nearly blocking the light of the open wormhole behind it, it's the only thought she can muster. The thing's so large that the mind rebels, refuses to orient.
Or maybe it's just that her own mind doesn't know which end is up right now, and hasn't since her fingers fumbled mid-keystroke when the first chevron sprang to life moments ago.
Jack had never bothered with fabricating excuses to be in the gate room whenever he wanted. Sam, on the other hand, had long ago perfected the art. After all these years, it's just a matter of course. Like the diagnostic she's currently executing, like mortal peril, like coming home at the end of the day - everything about this situation ought to be a matter of course by now.
It's not, though; but she shouldn't be so surprised by that. Shouldn't be so astonished by the feeling that gravity's deserted her, that perception and perspective suddenly require a level of effort and cognition that she's simply not capable of.
Who needs a frame of reference anyway?
Out of the corner of her eye, she watches Landry lean in to the microphone. "Welcome home, General," he says, and at his words, Sam finally drags her gaze up to the jumper's occupants.
She finds Jack's face in time to see the grin that spreads across it. "Hope you held dinner, Hank" he says, speaking to Landry but looking straight at her.
Sam turns away, punches one final key, and slips off down the stairs, chased by the sound of the wormhole snapping shut.
--
She tells herself she's not running away, not hiding; where else would Jack look for her when he's been cleared but in her lab? Sam Carter in her lab is, after all, one of the unchanging constants of the universe.
It's also one of the few places in the universe where she can count on regaining her perspective.
But when his shadow falls across her workbench nearly two hours later, and she looks up and sees him and her insides promptly go into free-fall, she thinks that particular universal law might have gone missing along with all the rest of them.
"Carter," he says by way of greeting, and his voice is easy, full of that old, familiar mix of teasing officiousness and long-suffering affection, as though he hadn't been the target of a tactical nuclear weapon mere hours before.
Actually, it's more as if he'd had fun having said weapon pointed at him. He probably hadn't, of course, but he'll also never admit that in this lifetime.
"So," he leans against the other side of the table. "Atlantis. Pretty this time of year."
"Are you okay?" she asks.
He blinks, and maybe he's taken aback, but she doesn't feel like fencing today. "Give or take a hand in the head or two," he says with a shrug.
She winces.
"I'm pretty sure they just didn't want me to feel left out." He picks up a screwdriver from the tabletop, twists it between his fingers, then tosses it back down. "What with Dick 'Easy Pickings' Woolsey there and all."
It takes work, but she's pretty confident she holds back the cringe.
Or maybe not, because he walks slowly around the bench to stand next to her; his warmth surrounds her in the cool of the room, his fingers brush the back of her hand. "Sam." His eyes meet hers, unwavering. "I'm okay."
She'd like to find some way to prove that to herself, but if she starts touching him here, she's pretty sure she won't stop. She takes a deep breath, in and out, and then she nods once, for form.
From the look on his face, he doesn't buy her acceptance for a second.
He jerks his head toward the door. "I'm going to grab something to eat. Come if you want, or meet me topside in half an hour."
She nods once more, then watches as he turns and walks away.
--
They're barely in the door of her house before she has her mouth on his, her hands coasting upwards and winding in the threads of his hair, pulling him to her as though she expects him to protest. He doesn't; his own arms wrap around her waist, and the weight of them against her back is like gravity, drawing her close and anchoring her and making it impossible to break away.
As if there'd ever been any hope of that.
They fumble a bit down the hallway; Sam bangs into more corners and doorframes than she has since the first time they did this. It's not long, though, before they're naked on her sheets, and she's biting back moans as he brushes her neck and breasts with the pads of his fingers.
The thing is, getting lost in her own pleasure isn't what she's looking for right now.
She tugs at him and pulls his head down again. "Please," she says against his lips as she trails a hand down his back, slides her thigh against his. "Jack. I want you."
Sam knows she's won when she feels the tensing of his muscles at her words, when he buries his face against her neck with a groan and moves one hand to grip hard at her hip; knows it well before he finally presses forward and settles his hips between hers and buries himself deep inside her.
They rock together, slowly at first, and then faster, until she's a little breathless from the force of it, from the weight of him on top of her and the feel of him as his heavy thrusts push her back into the bed.
He's solid and real and hers, and he's alive, and it's exactly, exactly what she's needed. There's no law or equation in the universe that can describe this kind of perfection.
--
"Missed me a little, did you?" he asks, and if his tone's not quite flippant, isn't exactly cocky, it's close enough that if this were any other reunion between them, she'd explain to him just how much of an ass he can be - and he really can be quite an ass sometimes.
Tonight, she answers only with a slight caress of her fingertips against his skin.
The dark silence of night surrounds them; even the sound of their breathing is muted, something she feels more than she hears as Jack's chest moves beneath her. The skin of his shoulder is warm against her cheek, his hand at her waist relaxed but heavy. It should be comforting, but somehow it's not.
Maybe it's because she's so tired. Tired of the constant separation and the near misses and the galaxy's worth of burdens they're usually carrying.
More than one galaxy's worth, lately.
"All those years," she says softly into his skin, "when it was just, 'Hi, sir, I'm glad you're okay,' I don't know how we ever did that."
His arm tightens around her, and when his fingers dig into her skin a little too hard, she finds the discomfort oddly reassuring.
Several seconds pass before clears his throat and releases her. "Well," he says, "if I'd known this was on offer back then...."
There's no longer any question of whether he intends to be flip, and she makes a sound of protest; it's meant as frustration, but it comes out sounding more like all the worry and sadness and desperate, helpless hope she'd felt while his life hung in the balance.
She slides off him, caught between irritation and embarrassment, and starts to pull away, but stops when he turns to face her.
"How do we –" She breaks off, takes a deep breath. "I don't know how to keep doing this now."
He stares at her, his expression unreadable.
"Jack," she says, and he finally responds, leaning in and cutting her off by capturing her lips. His leg slides between hers, and his hand inches up her side, and even though she knows that all of this is Jack O'Neill for I don't want to talk about this right now, she can't help her shiver of anticipation or her gasp when his fingers drift across her breast.
She hates her body a little bit for betraying her.
"Jack," she tries again.
"Shh." He kisses the corner of her mouth as his hand drops, one finger trailing down her belly.
"We're not done," she says, trying to sound commanding despite her breathlessness.
"Good." He kisses her again. "Because I'm not planning on being done with you. Ever."
She lets her eyes drift shut.
--
Sam wakes alone, despite the still-dark windows. It's not unusual. After a decade of alien worlds, domestic time zones, and plain old insomnia, neither of them possesses anything that resembles a normal biological clock.
She pushes herself out of bed, pulls on enough discarded clothing to be decent, and heads off down the hall. She finds Jack in the kitchen, a spoon and an open jar of peanut butter in his hands.
She can't help but laugh.
He shoves the spoon into the jar and the jar onto the counter. "What?" he asks, brandishing his empty hands.
"Nothing," she says with a smile as she crosses to stand in front of him. "Nothing at all."
He grunts something unintelligible before he reaches out and draws her against him.
"I'm sorry," she says softly.
He huffs a laugh into her hair. "Are you apologizing for the sex, Carter, or the fact that the only food you have in the house is stuff that reminds me of grade school?"
"Jack."
"I'm just saying that the food's not an issue for me."
She pokes a finger into his side. "You're an ass, you know."
"Yes."
"I missed you."
"And you missed my ass."
She chuckles into his shoulder, and his arms tighten around her.
Once, she'd thought it would get easier to bear; the pain of parting and the joy of coming together, both so intense that sometimes she can't breathe. It hasn't, of course. And celebration for her has been warped by so many years of standing there and forcing on a smile and thinking she can almost feel the Earth still spinning when she'd thought, irrationally, that it might stop.
"I'm sorry," she says slowly, "that you have to do this every day."
"I don't mind. Not as long as I keep getting rewarded for it, anyway."
She leans back to look into his face. "So you're just in it for the sex?"
"And the peanut butter, of course."
"Of course." She smiles. "Welcome home, Jack."
"It's good to be home."
a_loquita and binkii822. I hope you are both having a wonderful time this weekend, and whenever you happen to get back to a keyboard, look! I wrote you fic. :) Hugs and smooches and other embarrassing, sappy things to you both.
Title: Dimensionless Quantities
Rating: Adult
Characters/Pairing: Sam/Jack
Season/Episode: SGA 3x10-11, The Return
Genre: Angst.
Word Count: ~1800
Summary: After all these years, it's simply a matter of course. Like the diagnostic she's currently executing, like mortal peril, like coming home at the end of the day - everything about this situation ought to be a matter of course by now. Post-ep for SGA 3x10-11, The Return.
A/N: Special thanks to
ziparumpazoo for putting up with ridiculous amounts of panicky flailing about this fic. And for being generally fabulous. And for beta reading. *g*Puddlejumpers are too big for the gate room.
The thought's absurd, but as she stares at the hovering ship that fills the space between gate and wall, nearly blocking the light of the open wormhole behind it, it's the only thought she can muster. The thing's so large that the mind rebels, refuses to orient.
Or maybe it's just that her own mind doesn't know which end is up right now, and hasn't since her fingers fumbled mid-keystroke when the first chevron sprang to life moments ago.
Jack had never bothered with fabricating excuses to be in the gate room whenever he wanted. Sam, on the other hand, had long ago perfected the art. After all these years, it's just a matter of course. Like the diagnostic she's currently executing, like mortal peril, like coming home at the end of the day - everything about this situation ought to be a matter of course by now.
It's not, though; but she shouldn't be so surprised by that. Shouldn't be so astonished by the feeling that gravity's deserted her, that perception and perspective suddenly require a level of effort and cognition that she's simply not capable of.
Who needs a frame of reference anyway?
Out of the corner of her eye, she watches Landry lean in to the microphone. "Welcome home, General," he says, and at his words, Sam finally drags her gaze up to the jumper's occupants.
She finds Jack's face in time to see the grin that spreads across it. "Hope you held dinner, Hank" he says, speaking to Landry but looking straight at her.
Sam turns away, punches one final key, and slips off down the stairs, chased by the sound of the wormhole snapping shut.
--
She tells herself she's not running away, not hiding; where else would Jack look for her when he's been cleared but in her lab? Sam Carter in her lab is, after all, one of the unchanging constants of the universe.
It's also one of the few places in the universe where she can count on regaining her perspective.
But when his shadow falls across her workbench nearly two hours later, and she looks up and sees him and her insides promptly go into free-fall, she thinks that particular universal law might have gone missing along with all the rest of them.
"Carter," he says by way of greeting, and his voice is easy, full of that old, familiar mix of teasing officiousness and long-suffering affection, as though he hadn't been the target of a tactical nuclear weapon mere hours before.
Actually, it's more as if he'd had fun having said weapon pointed at him. He probably hadn't, of course, but he'll also never admit that in this lifetime.
"So," he leans against the other side of the table. "Atlantis. Pretty this time of year."
"Are you okay?" she asks.
He blinks, and maybe he's taken aback, but she doesn't feel like fencing today. "Give or take a hand in the head or two," he says with a shrug.
She winces.
"I'm pretty sure they just didn't want me to feel left out." He picks up a screwdriver from the tabletop, twists it between his fingers, then tosses it back down. "What with Dick 'Easy Pickings' Woolsey there and all."
It takes work, but she's pretty confident she holds back the cringe.
Or maybe not, because he walks slowly around the bench to stand next to her; his warmth surrounds her in the cool of the room, his fingers brush the back of her hand. "Sam." His eyes meet hers, unwavering. "I'm okay."
She'd like to find some way to prove that to herself, but if she starts touching him here, she's pretty sure she won't stop. She takes a deep breath, in and out, and then she nods once, for form.
From the look on his face, he doesn't buy her acceptance for a second.
He jerks his head toward the door. "I'm going to grab something to eat. Come if you want, or meet me topside in half an hour."
She nods once more, then watches as he turns and walks away.
--
They're barely in the door of her house before she has her mouth on his, her hands coasting upwards and winding in the threads of his hair, pulling him to her as though she expects him to protest. He doesn't; his own arms wrap around her waist, and the weight of them against her back is like gravity, drawing her close and anchoring her and making it impossible to break away.
As if there'd ever been any hope of that.
They fumble a bit down the hallway; Sam bangs into more corners and doorframes than she has since the first time they did this. It's not long, though, before they're naked on her sheets, and she's biting back moans as he brushes her neck and breasts with the pads of his fingers.
The thing is, getting lost in her own pleasure isn't what she's looking for right now.
She tugs at him and pulls his head down again. "Please," she says against his lips as she trails a hand down his back, slides her thigh against his. "Jack. I want you."
Sam knows she's won when she feels the tensing of his muscles at her words, when he buries his face against her neck with a groan and moves one hand to grip hard at her hip; knows it well before he finally presses forward and settles his hips between hers and buries himself deep inside her.
They rock together, slowly at first, and then faster, until she's a little breathless from the force of it, from the weight of him on top of her and the feel of him as his heavy thrusts push her back into the bed.
He's solid and real and hers, and he's alive, and it's exactly, exactly what she's needed. There's no law or equation in the universe that can describe this kind of perfection.
--
"Missed me a little, did you?" he asks, and if his tone's not quite flippant, isn't exactly cocky, it's close enough that if this were any other reunion between them, she'd explain to him just how much of an ass he can be - and he really can be quite an ass sometimes.
Tonight, she answers only with a slight caress of her fingertips against his skin.
The dark silence of night surrounds them; even the sound of their breathing is muted, something she feels more than she hears as Jack's chest moves beneath her. The skin of his shoulder is warm against her cheek, his hand at her waist relaxed but heavy. It should be comforting, but somehow it's not.
Maybe it's because she's so tired. Tired of the constant separation and the near misses and the galaxy's worth of burdens they're usually carrying.
More than one galaxy's worth, lately.
"All those years," she says softly into his skin, "when it was just, 'Hi, sir, I'm glad you're okay,' I don't know how we ever did that."
His arm tightens around her, and when his fingers dig into her skin a little too hard, she finds the discomfort oddly reassuring.
Several seconds pass before clears his throat and releases her. "Well," he says, "if I'd known this was on offer back then...."
There's no longer any question of whether he intends to be flip, and she makes a sound of protest; it's meant as frustration, but it comes out sounding more like all the worry and sadness and desperate, helpless hope she'd felt while his life hung in the balance.
She slides off him, caught between irritation and embarrassment, and starts to pull away, but stops when he turns to face her.
"How do we –" She breaks off, takes a deep breath. "I don't know how to keep doing this now."
He stares at her, his expression unreadable.
"Jack," she says, and he finally responds, leaning in and cutting her off by capturing her lips. His leg slides between hers, and his hand inches up her side, and even though she knows that all of this is Jack O'Neill for I don't want to talk about this right now, she can't help her shiver of anticipation or her gasp when his fingers drift across her breast.
She hates her body a little bit for betraying her.
"Jack," she tries again.
"Shh." He kisses the corner of her mouth as his hand drops, one finger trailing down her belly.
"We're not done," she says, trying to sound commanding despite her breathlessness.
"Good." He kisses her again. "Because I'm not planning on being done with you. Ever."
She lets her eyes drift shut.
--
Sam wakes alone, despite the still-dark windows. It's not unusual. After a decade of alien worlds, domestic time zones, and plain old insomnia, neither of them possesses anything that resembles a normal biological clock.
She pushes herself out of bed, pulls on enough discarded clothing to be decent, and heads off down the hall. She finds Jack in the kitchen, a spoon and an open jar of peanut butter in his hands.
She can't help but laugh.
He shoves the spoon into the jar and the jar onto the counter. "What?" he asks, brandishing his empty hands.
"Nothing," she says with a smile as she crosses to stand in front of him. "Nothing at all."
He grunts something unintelligible before he reaches out and draws her against him.
"I'm sorry," she says softly.
He huffs a laugh into her hair. "Are you apologizing for the sex, Carter, or the fact that the only food you have in the house is stuff that reminds me of grade school?"
"Jack."
"I'm just saying that the food's not an issue for me."
She pokes a finger into his side. "You're an ass, you know."
"Yes."
"I missed you."
"And you missed my ass."
She chuckles into his shoulder, and his arms tighten around her.
Once, she'd thought it would get easier to bear; the pain of parting and the joy of coming together, both so intense that sometimes she can't breathe. It hasn't, of course. And celebration for her has been warped by so many years of standing there and forcing on a smile and thinking she can almost feel the Earth still spinning when she'd thought, irrationally, that it might stop.
"I'm sorry," she says slowly, "that you have to do this every day."
"I don't mind. Not as long as I keep getting rewarded for it, anyway."
She leans back to look into his face. "So you're just in it for the sex?"
"And the peanut butter, of course."
"Of course." She smiles. "Welcome home, Jack."
"It's good to be home."
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2009-08-22 03:19 pm (UTC)And Happy Birthday to the two birthday girls--how lucky that I just got this cool new icon thanks to Beth at LOLMac on lj, so I have the perfect Jack icon to add to the birthday wishes, here.
I hope you are both having good birthdays--with S/J fic as a present, you must be, right?!
Melissa M.
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Date: 2009-08-23 01:03 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-08-22 04:45 pm (UTC)Happy birthday to the birthday girls! :)
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Date: 2009-08-23 01:05 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-08-22 05:38 pm (UTC)Lovely fic, I was particularly blown away by the following fantastic paragraph:
Once, she'd thought it would get easier to bear; the pain of parting and the joy of coming together, both so intense that sometimes she can't breathe. It hasn't, of course. And celebration for her has been warped by so many years of standing there and forcing on a smile and thinking she can almost feel the Earth still spinning when she'd thought, irrationally, that it might stop.
This captures Sam during all the times when Jack is missing/frozen/goa'ulded/stuck behind a forcefield/elsewhere so incredibly well. Beautiful.
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Date: 2009-08-23 01:07 am (UTC)This icon feels very appropriate re: peanut butter :D
Hahaha. You are so right!
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Date: 2009-08-22 06:10 pm (UTC)More pmore of your friends need to have birthdays so you'll write more lovely fic like this for them (and us!)
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Date: 2009-08-23 01:09 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-08-22 06:28 pm (UTC)"All those years," she says softly into his skin, "when it was just, 'Hi, sir, I'm glad you're okay,' I don't know how we ever did that."
Oh, Sam. Just lovely. I love it when we all get the benefits of birthday fic! :D
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Date: 2009-08-23 01:26 am (UTC)Probably because he's on the other side of it far too often and thinks he would lose his mind if he took it seriously.
I think you are right - Jack is the sort of guy who might just fall off the cliff of doom if he took all the crap he deals with seriously. So he just doesn't.
Fannish birthdays are the best. And thank you very much for the rec! :)
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Date: 2009-08-22 06:36 pm (UTC)somehow I'm really getting to like the ones where Jack has reached that point; tat willingness to believe he deserves joy and willingness to fight for it.
"I'm sorry," she says slowly, "that you have to do this every day."
{squishes them both}
well done, really enjoyed that
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Date: 2009-08-23 01:29 am (UTC)willingness to believe he deserves joy and willingness to fight for it.
Aww, yes. I like that too, but I guess it is a long journey for him/them to get to that point!
(no subject)
From:no subject
Date: 2009-08-22 06:50 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-08-23 01:30 am (UTC)(Edited because apparently I can't type!)
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Date: 2009-08-22 07:54 pm (UTC)Once, she'd thought it would get easier to bear; the pain of parting and the joy of coming together, both so intense that sometimes she can't breathe. It hasn't, of course. And celebration for her has been warped by so many years of standing there and forcing on a smile and thinking she can almost feel the Earth still spinning when she'd thought, irrationally, that it might stop.
"I'm sorry," she says slowly, "that you have to do this every day."
"I don't mind. Not as long as I keep getting rewarded for it, anyway."
She leans back to look into his face. "So you're just in it for the sex?"
"And the peanut butter, of course."
Lovely, lovely job as always! *squishes you*
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Date: 2009-08-23 01:40 am (UTC)Happy birthday again! *squishes you back*
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Date: 2009-08-22 08:01 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-08-23 01:47 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-08-22 08:25 pm (UTC)... she can almost feel the Earth still spinning when she'd thought, irrationally, that it might stop.
so eloquently put.
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Date: 2009-08-23 01:53 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-08-22 11:22 pm (UTC)I just loved it.
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Date: 2009-08-23 01:53 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-08-22 11:30 pm (UTC)I can actually feel this. SO good.
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Date: 2009-08-23 01:55 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-08-22 11:30 pm (UTC)It gets better each time I read it.
(and also, love this title much)
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Date: 2009-08-23 01:57 am (UTC)Thank you again! *hugs*
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Date: 2009-08-23 01:21 am (UTC)Perfect.
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Date: 2009-08-23 02:01 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-08-23 02:15 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-08-23 01:42 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-08-23 03:01 am (UTC)*squishes you tight* Thank you again, hon.
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Date: 2009-08-23 01:45 pm (UTC)And you made me blink because I wasn't sure I'd seen that rating correctly!
Hahaha!
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Date: 2009-08-23 08:05 pm (UTC)Also, I met
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Date: 2009-08-24 12:09 am (UTC)And thanks!
(no subject)
From:(no subject)
From:no subject
Date: 2009-08-25 04:58 am (UTC)This was wonderful: and his voice is easy, full of that old, familiar mix of teasing officiousness and long-suffering affection
And this was just hot: "Because I'm not planning on being done with you. Ever." *is ded from guh*
(Look at you with the adult rating! And it was fantastic!)
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Date: 2009-08-26 04:02 am (UTC)Look at you with the adult rating!
Hehe. But it barely qualifies! *g*
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Date: 2009-08-26 02:32 am (UTC)Gives me the happy sigh and is a nice topper to the awesome weekend that was spent with the lovely Ms. Tapping.
I really need to give my muse a good ass kicking and finish some of the many WIPS I have sitting around for these two.
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Date: 2009-08-26 04:04 am (UTC)Definitely you should have a stern talking-to with the muse. :)
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Date: 2009-08-26 04:04 pm (UTC)For all of your worrying over this fic...oh it is just wonderful! All full of aching tenderness...and the Jack snarkyness just so he can hide the depths to which it all affects him.
giggle!!!!
Love Carter being so fierce and so lost all at the same time...
***lump in throat***
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Date: 2009-08-27 01:11 pm (UTC)Carter being so fierce and so lost all at the same time...
Ooh! I really like the way you phrased this. :)
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Date: 2009-08-26 08:03 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-08-27 01:12 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-08-27 03:28 am (UTC)You captured both Sam and Jack so perfectly....I could see this actually happening between them.... *sigh*
I don't know how I've missed reading any of you fan fics before...but I will be catching up, that's for sure! :)
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Date: 2009-08-27 01:24 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-08-27 03:39 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-08-27 01:24 pm (UTC)Many Happy Returns of the Day
Date: 2009-10-12 03:09 am (UTC)Re: Many Happy Returns of the Day
Date: 2009-10-12 03:46 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-10-12 03:27 am (UTC)Anyhoo, I loved this, because there are so many fics that deal with Jack's POV on the whole soulmate-in-danger-returns concept, but very few from Sam's POV. And you have captured exactly the way in which Jack would be an ass to keep the conversation out of deep waters, and the way in which she would need to talk, but have difficulty in actually having the conversation in the face of resistance.
no subject
Date: 2009-10-12 03:48 pm (UTC)