The Art of Dancing
The Art of Dancing
by Linz
TITLE: The Art of Dancing
AUTHOR: Linz (lindsaymallen@yahoo.com)
CATEGORY: Sam and Jack
SUMMARY: The title says it all.
RATING: PG
SPOILERS: none
SEASON: After 4
ARCHIVE: SJA, Heliopolis, others only have to ask.
DISCLAIMER: Ok, don't own characters (wish I did) made this story up, didn't make any money out of it, yada yada, you know the rest.
NOTES: Nothing, just enjoy.
Jack stood alone, away from the crowds, nursing his bottle of beer as he watched the night unfold. He hated these things.
"These things," being special fundraisers for the benefit of the SGC. He hated the dancing, both literally and figuratively. The playing nice to Generals, politicians and various other individuals that under normal circumstances he would avoid like a shot from a zat gun.
He'd threatened not to go, reasoned not to go and in the end, pretty much begged not to go, but Hammond wouldn't hear any excuses about his "diplomatic abilities" and had eventually had to resort to ordering him to be here. So here he was, bored, irritated and not just a little bit perturbed by how well his colleagues could dance the dance. Watching everybody smile nicely, talk politely and pretend they could stand to be in the same room as everyone else, when in reality Jack knew just how much they hated these things too. All the pretence and effort, for nothing more than a meagre hope that a couple more bucks would be invested into the Stargate Project.
He swallowed another mouthful from his bottle, but not even its familiar taste could wash away the cynicism that he felt towards the entire room. Actually, that wasn't quite true. Not everyone in the room evoked such contempt; his team and his general fell into the disdain free zone.
He watched on and hid a wince at how effortlessly General Hammond played the room, circulating in exactly the right places, laughing at exactly the right time, dancing to the tunes of others for the greater good and generally, Hammond was being very good at being a General.
It was an art form that Jack had never wanted to master for this situation. The subtlety, the detachment and the bending of the truth to its breaking point were too complicated for something so mundane as making nice to people he disliked so heartily. Oh, he could do it when he wanted to, but tonight, he just didn't want to. Not now, not when he had a real and vivid reason to hate these people - the rule makers.
'Way to look at the bigger picture Jack,' his conscience chided, but was duly ignored.
He continued to let his eyes roam the room, stunned to find something to interest him to the point of a grin. In fact he had to bite back a laugh as he caught site of Teal'c, (who, in fairness wasn't exactly difficult to miss) Carter and Daniel at the same time. His eyebrows drew together as he tried to work out what the hell the rest of his team where trying to do. It took a few more moments of concentration until Jack finally realised that Carter and Daniel were actually trying to show Teal'c how to dance, literally.
First Daniel and Carter would show the steps, then Carter and Teal'c would follow, with Teal'c doing his best to mimic Daniel's previous movements. Obviously, the Chulakian equivalent was *way* different.
Part of him found the spectacle intensely amusing, but another part of him found it ridiculously painful. It was so easy for them, free to touch and tease and laugh with each other. Not that Jack cared about being discrete around Daniel or Teal'c, but it was Carter... Carter and those damn rules. The rules that the people in this very room were guilty of enforcing on them.
Daniel was free to touch her, to hold her, so was Teal'c. Even in jest they didn't have to second-guess every single word or touch, just in case it could be misconstrued. Jack swallowed a bitter mouthful of his beer. He was jealous of his team-mates; he was so utterly envious of the fact that they didn't have to dance with regulations in order to dance with her.
Jack looked back to his team to see that Major Castleman had chimed into the fray and was twirling his second-in-command around the dance floor with ease, Jack couldn't help but wonder why was it perfectly acceptable for everyone else to be free to dance with his Major except him? A dance was just a dance, right? It didn't mean anything, right?
When had things become so absurd that he couldn't ask his Major to dance with him without wondering which one of these people here tonight was waiting to cite the Air Force Regulations to them?
He saw her smiling and laughing at something Daniel had shouted to her and he wondered why the hell he cared about these people and their stupid regulations? But he knew that he had to, he had to keep dancing between his wants and the requirements of duty. He had no choice and he *really* hated that.
It was just so damned hard to be the professional Air Force officer, when he felt the way he did. A short time ago, he was have laughed in the face of anyone who'd have said that he'd ever be afraid to make her laugh, but now... and the kicker was, he knew she was just as scared to let him.
Jack thought back to Hammond. It really was an art form, the balancing, the juggling... the dancing. A different playing field, but exactly the same damn thing.
With that, he upended the rest of his bottle, only to realise it was already empty. A poetic man would undoubtedly find some ridiculous metaphor... or was it symbolism... whatever... in that. But he wasn't poetic. He was just... empty.
He tried to make his way through the crowd without being spotted. He was tired of the dance already. He just wanted to go home, he'd carried out his orders, after all Hammond hadn't specified how long he had to stay. But it seemed Daniel had other ideas.
In a voice that was slightly accented through a little over-indulgence in whatever the hell was in his glass, Daniel spoke.
"Jack look, Teal'c can dance!" Jack looked at his friend, oh yeah, definitely an little over-indulgence there Dannyboy!
Jack wanted to ignore him, to pretend that the archaeologist was invisible, but he realised with a groan, that even when the man was *actually* invisible, you *still* couldn't ignore him for cryin' out loud!
"Yeah Daniel, I can see that" His answer was meant to be glib, but dammit, he just wanted to go home...he noticed Teal'c's mandatory raised eyebrow as he watched him let Carter go.
"O'Neill, would you care to dance with MajorCarter, she is more than proficient?"
Ok, a paranoid man might think that maybe his Jaffa friend knew too damned much. But all Jack cared about was, how all of a sudden; he didn't want to go home quite so much. He didn't need to look at her to sense the tension in her at Teal'c's suggestion, he could almost hear her censure him - 'Here?! Sir, with all due respect, are you insane?' and yet, there was something else in her eyes that flared for less than half a heartbeat, only a small, tiny something, but it was enough.
'Insane? Yasureyabetcha... snookums'
"Wow Major, for Teal'c, that is high praise indeed," he advanced slowly, purposely blocking her from view of the others as Teal'c' moved away. "Would you care to show me how much 'more than proficient' you are?" He offered his hand, knowing full well that she had caught his insinuation.
"Sir, I don't think this is such a good idea," her eyes scanned the room meaningfully before returning to his, "given our current position"
Jack scanned the room, God he hated them. He'd understood her implication, but he didn't care. That streak of recklessness was unbridled now, and after watching over an hour and a half of vomit inducing ass kissing, he was more than ready to push the issue. But he knew he had to at least *try* to be tactful...
"Relax Major, I'm only asking you to dance. It's not like it's a declaration of undying love or anything"
Oops... he realised how big the gap was between "trying" to be tactful and actually being "successful". Her eyes flared; oh this was not a good start... he cleared his throat quickly.
"Carter, if I promise to remove my foot from my mouth, do you promise not to stand on it?" He held his hand out to her again, hope fading until he heard a giggle. Small and unsure, but a giggle non-the-less, and it was music to his ears. She said nothing, she just smiled into his eyes and placed her hand in his and led him to the dance floor.
The music was one of those infuriating in-between deals, not a slow dance, but not a disco-pop-dance type deal either. It was the type of dance that was undecided about which way it could go, because not even the music it was governed by could fully control it. The type that really confused Jack's hands and feet... where did they go, what did he do? Again a poetic man would have a field day with metaphors... symbolism... *whatever*!
She came to his rescue, letting him hold her hand and placing his other on the turn of her hip. He could feel her apprehension, and he could feel the requisite distance between their bodies being scientifically adhered to for fear of watching eyes. She wouldn't look at him; her eyes resolutely focussed on a point that seemed to be about two inches above his shoulder. This was wrong, dancing should'nt be about science and rules and fear... even he knew that.
"Relax Sam, its only one dance," he knew that it was the intentional use of her first name, rather than his low whisper that caused her to snap her head around and catch his eyes. For the briefest of moments, that movement re-affirmed everything he had fought so had to pretend didn't exist between them.
"Dancing is allowed, Major"
"Yes Sir," she was cool and calm, but that tiny something showed itself in her eyes again as she continued, "it's not like it's a declaration of love or anything,"
He locked brown to blue and knew without a doubt that she felt it too. He watched her let her gaze leave his, he had to do *something*.
"No Major, it's not. Which is probably a good thing, or we'd be staring a court-martial in the face right now," he took a deep breath.
"But if it was a declaration, and *if* I did love you," her eyes snapped back to him, and he smiled, she hadn't expected him to carry this further. She'd expected it to be there and gone, as it had been on so many precious occasions. But not this time, this time he needed more than one of those nanoseconds of time that they both clung to, to keep them warm when it was cold outside... so he continued.
"Which technically, we both know I'm not allowed to be, but if I *was* in love with you, The only reason I wouldn't be holding you a whole helluva lot closer than this, would be because I wouldn't want to do anything to damage your career. *If* I loved you, and it was up to me, we'd be dancing to the music, not to the rules."
He tightened his grip on her ever so slightly, subtly emphasising his point before he continued.
"Furthermore Major, *if* I was in love with you, I'd be having a REALLY hard time stopping myself from kissing you like there was no tomorrow, in front of whoever happened to be watching," he let his gaze linger purposefully on her full lips
"I'd want you to marry me, have at least a dozen of my children and live happily ever after with me. *If* I loved you that is," he smiled at her intake of breath, "and *Sam*, *if* I loved you, you'd know that I woke up each morning just to hear you laugh. That I'd risk my life just to see you smile and I'd show you every day of your life how much I needed you to keep saving me from myself."
He said nothing more, just keeping hold of her, physically maintaining the requisite distance and stance while mentally dancing around something far more elemental than music.
To all outside eyes, this moment was inconspicuous, just a Colonel dancing legitimately with his Second in Command. Even to prying ears, it would be hard to pin anything on them, after all, there was a massive difference between 'ifs' and 'stated facts' - wasn't there?
But he knew her, he knew that she'd understood. He didn't expect a response. He had only wanted to show her, to tell her... to hold her. So when she opened her mouth to speak, his heart was suddenly frozen by old insecurities... had he crossed that line? Broke their rule? Was she about to rip him to pieces with one word, one sentence?
"Sir, *if* you loved me," he heard her voice crack slightly, "I'd want you to promise that one day you'd ask to dance with me again, *your* way. Because if *I* loved you, I'd say yes... to everything."
He stared at her for an endless moment, until he became peripherally aware of the music fading, as his smile flashed.
"Officer and a gentleman, Major. I *always* keep my word" her smile was purely sensual as she softly murmured, "I *know*"
He released her reluctantly so that they could began to make their way back to the others. Daniel was busy talking to Janet, both of them blissfully unaware of the intensity of the dance. It was only when they returned and attention was shifted that Daniel spoke.
"So Teal'c, did ya learn anything watching Sam and Jack dance?" The slur of his words beginning to show more clearly.
"Yes DanielJackson I believe that I did," Teal'c looked Jack square in the eye.
"I believe that both O'Neill and MajorCarter are very proficient indeed, in the art of dancing"
The End.
Feedback would be lovely!
The Art of Dancing, copyright to Lindsay Allen - November 2001.
If you enjoyed this story, please send feedback to Linz
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