Kissing Carter had been way easier than he'd ever expected. Sure, his knees were wobbly and hands shaky, and they both lost their breath, forcing them to pull apart, exasperated, chuckling at their frantic teenage-like behavior, but at least the world hadn't ended.
Telling Carter he loved her had been nerve-wracking at best, but also so much easier than he'd expected. It wasn't mushy and sappy, straight out of a cliche romance film that he hated even before he saw; it slipped out almost naturally and maybe even casually. "Love ya," he had jabbed amidst a kiss goodnight on her doorstep. "You too," she replied, eyes wide and beautiful and smiling at him with promise. Fireworks exploded somewhere in his head, and for a moment he had wondered if the world was, indeed, ending. But as he gazed absently at a closed door while winter air nipped his cheeks rosy, he was pretty sure the world was just beginning.
Carter loved him.
Having sex with Carter was a completely different story. In fact, plain and simple, the sex just hadn't happened yet. They'd fooled around a bit, even made ridiculously organized plans for evenings together, but between boring politics beckoning him back to D.C. and the SGC demanding all of the brains Carter had to offer (which was admittedly a lot, Jack realized), they just hadn't got there yet. In fact, for all intents and purposes of the different realities they'd encountered over the years, the universe now seemed bent on keeping them apart just a little while longer. And as Jack O'Neill knew far too well, 'a while' was quite ambiguous being that time is relative and all. He wondered if it was their punishment for waiting so long to begin with. He could almost hear the universe mocking him and Carter, every rule and regulation and suppressed feeling that kept them apart for so long flashing before him in an agonizing proverbial slide show.
Then a piece of paper ended up on his desk one day, a memo, glaring at him while he glared back. It announced a series of meetings he'd be attending that pertained to the new satellite launch base in Florida he vaguely remembered hearing about some weeks ago at yet another meeting. Meetings, meetings, meetings. And more meetings. All he wanted to do was have sex with Carter, and now his presence was needed in Florida.
That's when a very rare and brilliant idea wedged itself in the confines of his brain and caused his entire face to light up in realization.
Florida.
* * * *
The phone call startled her out of the very important work she was doing. She rubbed her eyes and groggily tried to focus her vision on the watery computer screen in front of her. It was nearly eight o' clock in the evening.
"Hello?" her voice cracked into the receiver.
"Did I wake you?"
She smiled, relaxing into the chair at the sound of his voice.
"Kinda. Though it's probably a good thing. I'm supposed to be working."
"Carter, this is your home phone. I believe the point of going home is to leave work, not take it with you."
She smiled again, rolling her eyes.
"What's up?"
"What, I have to have a reason to call?"
She could hear his grin through the phone.
"Of course not, but then that would be uncharacteristic of you." A beat of silence passed and she strained to listen. The dinging of a seat belt warning followed by the slamming of a car door, and then he was walking. "Where are you?" she asked.
"That's not important. You busy tonight?"
"Huh? Oh, no. Just...work."
"You eat yet?"
"No," she replied, and her stomach grumbled at the thought of skipping supper. "You still planning on coming home next weekend?"
"Not exactly," he answered, and her heart sank.
"What do you mean?"
"Plans have changed."
"Jack?"
"Carter?"
Then the doorbell rang, and she scrunched her forehead in confusion.
"Just a second, someone's at the door. Sorry."
She pushed herself to her feet and ventured out of the kitchen and towards the front door, flipping on the porch light so she could identify the late night visitor.
"I hate you," she murmured, biting back a smile at the sight of one Jack O'Neill with his face plastered against the glass, the biggest, dorkiest smile on his face as he peered at her through the window. "I'm hanging up now," she announced, lowering the phone and unlocking the door. She grasped the handle and, with a slightly bitter gust of autumn wind, Jack stepped into her house and right into her arms, his lips finding hers before either of them had a chance to speak.
"Still hate me?" he asked, nuzzling her neck as she buried her face into the warmth of his shoulder and inhaled him.
"Mmm, I guess I reasonably like you."
"And I reasonably missed you," he said. He pulled back, and she beamed up at him.
"What the hell are you doing here?"
"Surprised?" He grinned.
"Yes. Very."
Their lips met once again. Soft, slow, steady movements, but passionate and full of so much promise. Even though their first kiss had been almost a year ago, several months after her father's passing and their individual promotions to General and Lieutenant Colonel, the fewness of their kisses since, due to miles between them, left their bodies reacting with surges of adrenaline while they supported each other with shaky arms and legs.
"So," she said, eyes still closed as he reluctantly drew back from her.
"So?"
"You still haven't answered my question."
"What question?" His eyes sparkled with playfulness, and she wordlessly led him into the living room and sat them down. She gazed expectantly at him across the expanse of the couch.
"Ever been to Florida, Carter?" he finally asked, deepening her curiosities as she furrowed her brow.
"Florida?"
"Yeah, you know. Deathly hot temperatures, even deadlier humidity levels, Mickey Mouse, alligators, beaches, little bikinis..."
She shot him a glare in jest and raised her eyebrow.
"What about Florida, Jack?"
"We're going! Me and you. No SGC...no Washington, no saving the world. Well, I will have to go to meetings a couple of the days. But yeah. Just me and you, and you in a little bikini. Do you have a little bikini, Carter?"
He glanced over, ignoring the surprise etched into her face, eyes skimming over the turquoise V-neck shirt she was wearing that dipped just low enough that an inch or so of cleavage smiled up at him, eyes continuing down to where her blue jeans snugly hugged the curve of her legs. He just about pounced across the couch to get to her. He realized suddenly, picturing Carter in a bikini, let alone actually seeing her in one, wasn't probably the best thing to be doing right now if he wanted to maintain any sense of self-control.
"You're kidding, right?"
"No! I'm not kidding. I'm really wondering if you have a little bikini, otherwise we're going to have to buy you one. It's hot in Florida, ya know."
"Jack."
"What?"
"We're going to Florida?"
Being that he had one of the smartest brains the country sitting across from him, she sure had a slow reaction rate at the moment. It made him grin even wider at the thought that he was probably the only thing in the entire universe with the ability to lower Carter's IQ.
"Yes."
"When?"
"Tomorrow."
"Tomorrow?"
"Yeah. Don't worry. Already told Landry you're taking the week off."
"The week?" she cried, more shocked than anything.
"Yeah."
"Wow. That's....that's....wow," she repeated, and just as he was starting to get worried she wasn't in the mood for a surprise vacation, her arms were around his neck and her tongue in his mouth, tasting and thanking him all at once. It was nearly too much to take, especially with that image of Carter in a bikini still fresh in his mind.
His hands grasped her by her waist and drew her gently back.
"I take that as a yes?"
"As if I'd say no to Florida. But...what about all my work?"
"Believe it or not, Carter, as smart as you are, there are other eggheads who are capable of filling your shoes for a week. A week and a half? Maybe not. But they can handle one week. They better, or I told Landry I'll shoot them myself."
She smiled crookedly at him and bit her lower lip, and his previous thoughts of pouncing her were rapidly resurfacing.
"I tell ya what. I'm gonna go home and pack and get a good night's rest. You should do the same. And eat something, alright?" Her shoulders dropped in disappointment. "Carter, we have a whole week ahead of us to do whatever we want."
"Yeah," she said, leaning forward and pressing her lips to the skin on his neck. He swore he could feel bursts of electricity shoot through the nerve-endings there even after her lips were replaced by her nuzzling nose.
"I'll pick you up at seven tomorrow morning. Our flight leaves at eight-thirty."
She nodded into his shoulder, fingers dancing across his back as she embraced him.
"I lied earlier," she said, voice muffled.
"About what?"
"I missed you a lot," she confessed. "This whole long-distance thing beats regulations but that doesn't make it easy."
"I know," he whispered into her hair. His whisper became a feather kiss, his scent glands overcome by a whiff of her fruity shampoo. Another kiss and they separated. He stood and made his way to the door, her close on his heel.
"I'll see you tomorrow then?"
"Oh, you can count on it," he said, his lips tugging into a sideways smirk. And since the world hadn't ended the first time or the second time, or even the third time, Jack took a deep breath and thought he'd take his chances considering the odds were looking pretty good.
"Love ya," he said and tried to pretend he hadn't noticed the ridiculous, pubescent-like voice crack that riddled his admission.
She giggled softly, obviously catching it as well and not at all worrying about wounding his ego. Her laughter, however, quickly washed away his embarrassment.
"Me too."
He turned on his heel and exited through her front door, walking briskly to his car to escape the chilling wind. The thought of eighty degrees and high humidity didn't seem like a terrible thought after all. He shivered and slid into the car seat, slamming the door behind him. The engine roared to life. As she waved at him from her doorway and disappeared into her house, he wondered if she knew that he'd been serious about the bikini.