He supposed romantic music, flickering candle-light and rose petals on the bed would have been a cliche. A gesture of romance that he didn't really posses.
There was something a lot more honest about her leading him by the hand to her room, a guilty smile on her face.
If he'd ever imagined her room, this wasn't how he had pictured it. There was a clutter that Carter didn't allow anywhere else in her life, a softness she rarely let anyone else see in her comfy-looking pillows and bed-spread.
Growing impatient with watching him appraise her bedroom she kissed him again. Her heels met the edge of her bed and she let herself be tipped gently backwards. His lips were on her neck again, the roughness of the sprinkling of stubble prickling pleasantly against her skin. She pulled his open shirt off, over his shoulders.
He kissed her face, lips touching the fine lines on her forehead, tracing the curve of her cheek and ending on her lips. She took his face in her hands, thumb tracing the line of the scar that bisected his left eyebrow, the sharp angles of his jaw. He smoothed her mussed hair with a hand, wishing stupidly that he felt, or at least looked, a little younger. Her gentle outlining of the lines of his face had made him feel very old.
Her hands continued, moving across his broad shoulders while she kissed his temple where the remaining brown colour in his hair, diluted by the speckled silver, faded completely. His hands slid underneath her tee shirt as she slipped her own under his arms so that she could grip his shoulders and pull him closer, burying her face in his neck. Her tee shirt was pulling at the back; she released him and pulled it over her head, earning herself a devilishly quirked eyebrow in response that sent a shiver that had nothing to do with cold or fear down her spine. Her un-Bridget Jones-like decision to wear underwear designed for appearance rather than practicality had apparently paid off.
He was surprised, she realised, and she found herself laughing.
"No giggling," he admonished, "I think–"
Brrrring! Brrrring!
–the cheerful tinkle of his cell-phone ringing interrupted him.
In the confines of his head he swore very loudly.
"Ignore it," she murmured.
He grimaced. "Only the SGC have the number."
He dug the trilling machine out of the back pocket of the jeans she'd been considering removing.
"O'Neill."
His face seemed to sharpen as he said his name she realised, as he assumed the persona of commander of the SGC. She shifted position slightly, earning herself a wide-eyed warning glance.
"Jack? It's Daniel here. Is Sam with you?"
"Uh... yeah."
"Oh good. You're both needed on base."
"Why?"
"The dialling computer's crashed again. And we think that someone might be trying to dial in."
Someone was shaking her shoulders.
She lifted her head muzzily, the piles of reports she had fallen asleep on at some point so late in the night it had technically been the next morning shifting slightly.
"Did you spend all of last night asleep on your desk?" the shaker demanded. It was Jack and she groaned as he flicked on the main lab lights, blinking owlishly.
"No," she lied.
"I told you to get some rest after you got the computer system back up. What happened?"
"I just had to run a few simulations. Some of our control systems are approaching their tenth birthday and we need to overhaul. I was trying to come up with a plan that won't have the 'gate offline for a great length of time so we can fix things."
He sighed. "You want to get some breakfast?"
She nodded. "Yes, actually I would. Coffee is a must."
They walked in companionable silence to the commissary. After a few sips of the steaming black coffee Carter was beginning to feel human again. O'Neill bought her a bowl of oatmeal to the table and she smiled her thanks. "Did SG-7 make it back okay?"
"Yeah, no real problems. Doctor Lee sprained an ankle, that's why they were trying to 'gate back early. They decided to wait and try again later before going to the alpha site as they were in no immediate danger, give them a chance to further explore. Didn't find anything greatly interesting in those ruins though."
"Shame."
He grinned, chin resting on his hand. "Sam..?"
"Uh-huh?"
"Please tell me you're not still wearing that-uh-that..."
She laughed, half in indignation. "When would I have had chance to change it?"
He covered his eyes with his hands, a glinting brown eye peering out at her between his fingers. "I'm never going to be able to look at you in BDUs the same way again."
"Why?"
His chin found its way back to his hand. She remembered that dreamy look in his eyes from a long time ago...
He blushed slightly. "Because I'll always be thinking about what you might have on underneath."
She raised her eyebrow in a gesture disturbingly reminiscent of Teal'c. She steepled her fingers, speaking over the top of her fingertips. "You... are a very bad man."
His grin widened. "The very worst."
His feet bumped against hers under the table as she dug her spoon into her oatmeal, the fluttering in her stomach nothing to do with hunger.
"Hey guys!"
She nearly dropped her spoon as Daniel spoke behind her. He dropped into the seat next to O'Neill. "You finish your simulations, Sam?"
She found it hard not to laugh as O'Neill shot an unnoticed, murderous glance at the young archeologist. "Not quite. I was just having some breakfast before I finished them off."
O'Neill sighed quietly. Some things, he supposed, were just not meant to be.