Dawn
Dawn
by Vicki
Summary: "Morning Beautiful"
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: 06/08/03
Author Notes: For Clara, Jojo and Emry. For yesterday, for pointing me in the direction of my new beta-reader and for doing a kick-ass beta job :) *
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She wakes up feeling cold and to the sound of water running. The sun is creeping in through the blinds, which he must have pulled down before getting in the shower. Obviously he didn't want their neighbours getting an eyeful, and she was perfectly content with being the only woman (aside from Janet and her medical staff) to see him naked.
She hears the water stop, and quickly closes her eyes. The door leading to their en-suite creaks slightly as he pushes it open and pads out into the bedroom. His wet feet make a slapping noise on the wooden floor and she tries not to frown. She's lost count of the times she's told him to dry his feet before leaving the en-suite to stop the wooden boards from warping.
He's only wearing a towel wrapped around his middle as he reaches for his deodorant and sprays himself liberally with it. He would have used her towel in the en-suite to dry his top half, which he always denied but then could never explain why it was damp.
He pulls at the towel, drying his legs and lower body as he heads to their underwear drawer. One of the initial problems when moving in together had been the lack of storage space, what with having a chest of drawers with only three drawers. As such, underwear was top, her sleepwear was in the middle while his was relegated to the bottom. It didn't really matter - it wasn't hard to differentiate between her panties and thongs and his boxer shorts and neither of them could tell which socks were whose now most of the time. There were some which were clearly hers, such as the ones labelled 'Samantha', which had been a present from Daniel for Christmas one year. There are others which he tries to keep for himself, like his Simpsons' ones which match his Simpsons boxer shorts.
She smiles to herself as she watches him select what appears to be ones that have Mickey Mouse on them. He only wears them when they were on downtime. He has a perfectly rational fear of being forced to strip down to underclothes with a cartoon mouse on them while off world. She still remembers that one time it happened and Daniel had been caught in a pair of shorts with a devil and 'Hot stuff' on! Even at the time, when she'd also been stripped down, she couldn't help but smirk, exchanging amused glances with the Colonel. Daniel had been mocked even more when SG-3 had showed up to rescue them, and the Colonel had threatened one of the lieutenants with a transfer to Alaska if he didn't remove his eyes from the half-naked Major within the next two seconds. Daniel had sworn to always wear plain boxers after that whenever they were off world, but Janet had told her (completely confidential of course) that that vow had lasted a grand total of two missions!
He pulls on his boxers, leaving the towel in a heap on the floor by the chest of drawers. She frowns. Although he was generally tidier than most of the males she had ever known, there were still reminders, such as leaving the towel in the bedroom every morning, that he wasn't fully housetrained just yet.
Crossing over to the closet he grabs a T-shirt and his favourite pair of jeans. They're her favourite too, as she loves the way the denim curves around the shapely contours of his ass. Those jeans and his leather jacket are enough to make her sink to her knees and thank God. She watches him as he puts one leg in, then the other and pulls up, covering his boxer clad ass with denim. He yanks the T-shirt over his head as he makes his way out of the bedroom, ruffling his short grey hair as he does.
She sighs as she hears the soft footsteps heading down the stairs and further away from her. Burying her face back in the pillow, she closes her eyes again and falls back to sleep.
*
Something is tickling her she realises, as she reluctantly opens her eyes. She looks up at the man she loves, who is leaning over her, running a stray finger down her face and neck. She shivers at the touch, and he smiles.
"Morning Beautiful," he whispers, and she smiles up at him.
"Morning yourself," she says, before she reaches up and pulls his head down for a kiss. She's vaguely aware of the sound of clinking china and the little voice in the back of her head reminding her that he always makes breakfast in bed after her nights out. But the more insistent part of her, which is still focussing on kissing him, ignores it as they break apart. As far as she's concerned, there's only one thing she wants for breakfast and it certainly isn't toast and coffee. He moves the tray to the floor before she grabs him and pulls him down onto the bed. No matter how good those jeans look on him, they are even better thrown halfway across the room with him in bed with her.
Later, as they lie in bed together, he smiles at her as she decides that she's now hungry. This always happens. That's why there's bread already waiting in the toaster.
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