Disclaimer - MGM/Gekko/Double Secret own them.
Sequel to Without A Paddle.
I make no excuses for the sappiness of this. It is what it is.
*
He was just finishing up the laundry when he realised it:
He was folding Sam's clothes. He'd just *washed* Sam's clothes. Right now, in his hands, he was holding a pair of her socks.
Jack studied the two piles he'd made; hers was considerably larger than his was, mostly due to the fact that really, he didn't own that many clothes (he tended to wear the same things over and over).
But it was just...
His clothes. And Sam's clothes. Together.
And that wasn't all. Her toothbrush was in the bathroom. The latest book she was reading was on the bedside table (the bedroom wasn't used *just* for sex, though it was still the primary activity after sleeping). Her favourite soda was now stocked in his refrigerator, and blue jello was a permanent fixture in his kitchen cupboards (so yeah, he'd had some there before, but that had had more to do with his own patheticness than anything else. At least it actually got eaten now).
Still holding onto the socks, he left the piles of clothes where they were - on the bed - and ventured out into the rest of the house.
The bathroom was closest so he strolled inside, surveying the contents. As remembered, there was her toothbrush (and her toothpaste. She claimed it tasted better. Jack was just waiting for the day when a toothpaste with 'just a hint of naquadah' would be released. Then she'd *really* have something to get excited about). Near the shower there were two bottles - shampoo and conditioner. Just like her there was nothing overly fragranced about them; they simply got their job done in the most spectacular fashion.
Hidden away in the cupboard behind the mirror were her Tampax. She'd never said anything, but he knew she thought he'd find them embarrassing, not seeming to realise that he'd lived with Sara for more than ten years.
Not that they were living together. Technically. Neither one of them had ever brought the subject up; her things had just started materialising in his home as if transported by the Asgard. Maybe she and Thor were in this together...not that he minded.
The living room was next. On the bookcase where he stored his Simpsons collection (every episode marked in chronological order), a few rogue videos and DVDs had crept in. The Matrix (he didn't mind that one), and something about cooked vegetables at some café. She'd made him watch it once, and while he actually quite liked Kathy Bates, it wasn't really his thing.
In the kitchen, as well as the soda and the jello, a different brand of coffee had been drafted in. She had her own mug (which was actually one of his, it was just now only used by her), which he'd washed out earlier and was now sitting on the counter, waiting for her to come home.
Standing in the kitchen, still holding her socks, Jack smiled.
Everywhere he looked, there was a part of her. It wasn't perfect - they were both stubborn as hell, so when they had something worth arguing about they *really* did. She had a habit of talking non-stop when she first came in from work (which was two times as irritating because she could never tell him precisely what she'd been doing), and he couldn't get a word in edgeways. When she was exhausted her snore was quite something to behold. When he needed personal space, he had to move several rooms away or even leave the house just to get it.
But...
She was always here. With him.
And even before he'd resigned, she always had been.
"Jack?"
Wow, he'd completely missed the sound of her key in the lock. "In the kitchen," He said.
The door closed, and her footsteps thumped around the house before moving closer and then eventually, past him.
She did place a kiss on his cheek before she started, at least.
"You would not *believe* the day I've had!"
Opening the breadbox she pulled out a sliced loaf, extracting two pieces of bread. She didn't look injured, thank God.
"I wouldn't?"
Finding the jelly, she grabbed a knife from the cutlery drawer and began spreading. "We're running these new...tests, and I'm being forced to work with this absolute *idiot*!" Jack assumed he really had to be. Took a lot for her to get this worked up. "I mean, he's doing everything completely wrong," Jack moved until he was leaning against the counter closest to the fridge, just watching. "Screwing up *both* of our results. I don't even know how he got on the program in the first place," Almost hurling the knife at the counter, she grabbed one slice of bread and placed it on top of the second, before moving suddenly and yanking the fridge door open. "And I couldn't speak to General Hammond about him, because he's been in these-"
"Sam,"
"-meetings all day - where's the milk? Oh - and then Janet was teasing me about you which normally I don't mind - how long has it been since anyone's been able to tease me about that? - but today it just...irritated me."
It seemed she was done. All he could see of her now was her hand as it clutched to the top of the fridge door from the inside, where she bending down, foraging for sustenance. "Sam?"
"Yeah?" She was still distracted, the sound of something clanking together coming from inside the fridge.
But he had to say it.
"I love you."
The clanking stopped. Her body rose. The fridge door shut.
She stared at him as if he'd grown another nose.
He wasn't sure what to expect. Maybe a query if he was feeling okay, for her to check his temperature; perhaps reciprocation.
He didn't get any of that.
"Why are you holding my socks?"
Jack glanced down at them; it had, after all, started there. "I was doing the laundry, and when I came to the socks I just realised - these are *your* socks. In my house." He looked back up and met her gaze. "I like having them there."
Her smile was almost invisible. "I'm pretty sure they like being here, too. You use a good conditioner. They're...comfortable."
Man, if this metaphor got any heavier...
Thankfully she continued, the grin *way* obvious by now. "So you love me, huh?"
He nodded, strangely feeling his own grin start to form. "You mean the general adoration wasn't a give away?"
Recognising the words, she chuckled. "Oh I'm not saying I didn't know, and I'm not saying that I need to hear it, but..." She sighed. "It is very, very nice to hear it. But I guess I should appreciate it while I can; I mean it's not like you're going to make a habit out of this..."
Jack shrugged. "I don't know." He really didn't. "I guess we'll have to wait and see."
She held his gaze, nodding softly. "I can live with that." Stepping forwards, she simply put her arms around him.
Dropping the socks Jack returned the hug, closing his eyes, holding her tight, revelling in the contact with the woman he loved.
The woman he loved.
Standing in his kitchen, holding him.
Her mouth moved until she whispered in his ear. "I love you,"
The resulting shiver spread through his entire body, culminating in the need to kiss her - something he was more than happy to do.
Maybe it was the situation; maybe it was just the fact that he hadn't seen her all day, but the kiss rapidly turned into something else. Something that required a lot more kissing, and a lot less clothing.
But they'd just said they loved each other; they really should do this some place more comfortable. Not to mention the fact that he was no spring chicken...
"Sam," Still kissing, he tried to guide them out of the kitchen but only ended up thumping into another counter. "We've just said..." God, now she was nibbling at his neck. "...that we love..." Somehow, his shirt was suddenly off, her mouth was on his chest, and he could *not* finish that sentence even he wanted to.
And he had to face it: at that point, he really didn't *want* to.
So what the hell? She was worth the inevitable backache, knee ache and various bruises he'd no doubt encounter in the morning-
She nibbled something else, and his mind blacked out completely.
~FINIS