Virtuoso
Virtuoso
by Cait Parker
Summary: Who'd have thunk Jack had it in 'im?
Category: Romance
Season: any Season
Pairing: Jack/Sam
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: none
Disclaimer: Stargate SG-1 and its characters are the property of Showtime/Viacom, MGM/UA, Double Secret Productions, and Gekko Productions. I have written this story for entertainment purposes only and no money whatsoever has exchanged hands. No copyright infringement is intended. The original characters, situations, and story are the property of the author(s).
Archived on: 10/15/03
A/N: Feedback PLEASE!!! Oh, how I need it!!!
Virtuoso
Sam loved downtime. She loved working, of course. Going off world, reverseengineering alien devices, and all the other stuff that went along with being the SGC's star astrophysicist seldom got old, but downtime with the team was a rare and treasured thing.
In her college years, she'd basically shunned the social life. Thinking back, her roommate reminded her a lot of the colonel, always trying to coerce her into going out when she was plenty happy sitting in her room, spending some quality time with her gadgets and doohickeys. Once in a while she'd give in and get obliterated, and she wondered if one day she might give into Jack's pleas to join him at the cabin. Keeping with the parallel to college, she'd of course have to wake up in a bed not her own, but she quickly brushed off that train of thought.
SG-1 had given her the opportunity to redeem herself for the Saturday nights spent hunched over reports. She'd quickly worked her tolerance to a point where she could nearly keep up with the colonel, maintaining her image as an equal rather than "the girl." Of course she still succeeded in drinking herself stupid and behaving like a complete ass, but it felt good to let loose after long hours in a mountain. And acting like an idiot wasn't so bad when your three closest friends were in no position to judge. Recently, even Teal'c partook, rationalizing that the jaffa no-drinking policy was from a time of worshipping false gods.
Jack no doubt had planted the seed for that reasoning.
On this particular evening, SG-1 found themselves spending their downtime at Jack's, as they usually did on team's nights in. Also, as usual, there was plenty of beer to go around--Daniel and Teal'c were cheap drunks ("Forget the two-beer queer, Teal'c is the one-beer wonder!" Jack had proclaimed one night), but Sam and Jack more than made up for the miniscule amounts of alcohol the alien and the archaeologist required.
This night, however, Sam had noticed something she'd never noticed before. In the corner of Jack's living room stood a piece of wood. It stood about four feet high, a little wider than that, and had a row of white things, accented periodically by black things, about halfway up the front. If she didn't know any better, she'd swear Jack O'Neill had a...
"Carter, you want to explain this one?" She became vaguely aware that someone was speaking to her.
"Carter?" Shaking her head to clear it of the thoughts of the thing in the corner, she turned her head to address her CO.
"Sorry, sir, what was that?"
"Colonel O'Neill would like you to explain why I may want a nipple for my beer."
"Forget it, Teal'c," Jack chuckled to the jaffa after seeing the smirk on Sam's face. "Carter?"
"Yes sir?"
"Whatcha lookin' at?"
She glanced briefly again at the corner of the room then looked uncertainly into Jack's eyes. "Is that a piano, sir?" She pointed to the object in question. She'd pretty much concluded that it was, but it was so covered in knick-knacks it was hard to be sure, and anyways, Jack wasn't one for changing light bulbs so it was a little dark as well.
"Yeah," Jack answered with a distinct air of nonchalance.
"What's it doing there?" Daniel asked, and Sam could have sworn she heard the gears turning. Daniel could figure out the significance of any symbol in any ancient or alien culture, but he looked positively stumped at the idea of a piano in his friend's living room.
"Not much." Jack took a swig of beer, set the bottle on an end table, and stood up. "Want it to do something? Feel free to play it."
Daniel jumped up from his seat on the floor, and Sam followed. Daniel merrily played his rendition of "Chopsticks," which was transposed into a key for which it was never intended.
"You know 'Heart and Soul?'" Sam asked him. Music was one of the few talents the major didn't possess, but Mark had long ago taught her the classic one-finger top part.
"I'll play the bottom part," Daniel replied. "Which button do I push first?"
"They're called keys, Daniel," Jack corrected.
"But they're buttons."
"They're keys."
"If I call them keys, you can't call my artifacts 'rocks' anymore."
"Buttons it is."
Jack had been sitting for about fifteen minutes enjoying the newfound entertainment in his living room. He took another swig of beer and leaned back in his recliner as his two favorite scientists made noises that couldn't quite be defined as music. He was content with the fact that there was at least one thing in this world that Sam wasn't good at. He grinned--she was cute when she didn't know what she was doing. She was cute when she did know what she was doing, but he could extort this cute for private time with his 2IC by offering lessons.
"Do you play, sir?" Sam asked, giving up on "Heart and Soul."
"Do you have a request?"
"Can you play 'Twinkle Twinkle?"
Jack snorted, stood up, and walked to the piano as Daniel and Sam stepped aside. He cracked his knuckles, placed his fingers on the appropriate buttons ('They're rocks, dammit,' he thought), and chuckled slightly.
"Can you think of something a little more challenging?"
Teal'c spoke up. "I have taken a liking to the works of Beethoven. My favorite is 'Fur Elise.'"
Without a word, Jack closed his eyes and started playing. His team looked on, amazed. When he finished a few minutes later, he stifled a smile at the astonishment on their faces.
As if his being a virtuoso was something that should be common knowledge, he shrugged and dismissed them with a simple "What?"
As was customary, Daniel had announced he was tired and called a cab to take him home. Teal'c, as always, had gone to crash in the guest room. Sam stayed for the ritual bottlecleaning -up ceremony, after which she normally called a cab for herself, smiled, and said goodnight as she walked out the door to wait for the cab and get some fresh air to clear her blurry head.
But something wasn't normal about tonight, Jack realized as Sam sat on the couch after the last of the bottles had been thrown out. She was looking at him questioningly, as if he was the one behaving strangely. He certainly wasn't the one breaking tradition by staying longer than necessary.
He didn't mind, of course.
"Did you want another beer?" he implored, standing at the doorway to the kitchen and gesturing towards the fridge. She didn't respond. "Do you want to watch some tv?"
"You play the piano?" she asked when finally she had gathered her thoughts.
"No," he replied sarcastically.
"Where did you learn to do that?"
"I started taking lessons when I was five, Carter. You don't know how close I was to going to music school instead of joining the Air Force."
She nodded slightly. "What made up your mind?"
"Money, mostly," he answered. "Pay or get paid. It was more a hobby anyways." It seemed to him she didn't exactly have any intention of leaving yet. "You want another beer?" he asked again. She nodded.
"Will you play for me?" When had her voice changed? Maybe he was just imagining, but he was certain her voice had dropped sensuously. Yeah, probably imagining, he told himself.
He'd been so caught up in the utter husk in her request he forgot to reply until he looked right at those big blues, staring at him expectantly. "Yeah, sure, whatcha want to hear?"
She shrugged. "Something pretty."
Pretty? Did tough Samantha "You wanna arm wrestle" Carter just request something pretty? His mind was racing, his pulse was racing, and his feet were racing to the piano as he made his selection. He didn't make such a show this time, merely sat at the piano, closed his eyes, and let "Moonlight Sonata" pour from his fingers. He'd always thought of it as a romantic piece; he only hoped she thought the same.
Somehow, without her knowledge, Sam had gone from sitting on the couch to standing behind Jack as he worked his magic on the keyboard. "Moonlight Sonata" had always done something for her. It sounded so beautiful, yet so angsty... bittersweet, she decided. An unrequited-love song, a song about two lovers who couldn't be together...
The unseen force that had moved her from the couch to the piano had somehow moved her hand to rest on Jack's shoulder.
Yikes, she thought. She struggled to turn her mind in any other direction than the one in which it was going.
Yeah, yikes, was all she succeeded in thinking.
Then the song was over.
And his arm was around her waste. And that most certainly was her CO standing in front of her, moving in for a kiss, as much as she was trying to convince herself it was just wishful thinking.
Ok, maybe she hadn't been imagining all these years that he harbored secret feelings for her. If Jack O'Neill can play the piano, anything's possible. And as she woke up in his arms the next morning, she smiled and sighed.
She had definitely learned a thing or two about the colonel. And his musical ability was really only secondary.
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