Disclaimer - MGM/Gekko/Double Secret own them.
Set in season six, no spoilers other than general knowledge of the team. Extremely silly. For Moon, just because.
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There were several things she'd become accustomed to over the past few years that - to her, at least - proved she a bad case of Colonel O'Neill.
Depending on the day, her mood, her hormone levels; at varying times any one of these things could be deemed the determining factor, or they could cumulatively add towards that Very Bad Case of Colonel O'Neill.
On this particular day, however, it was something completely new.
P7E 234 was a standard meet and greet. Send in the flagship team for first contact and then, if necessary, send the diplomatic team later (especially if the Colonel had said something decidedly *un*-diplomatic during the first contact).
As it was the people of P7E 234 (AKA Kallanna) were very friendly, and very pleased to see them. Quite frankly it made a nice change for once to meet a group of people who weren't instantly suspicious of their behaviour, or ready to hogtie them and throw them into the nearest brig at the slightest infraction of their rules.
But then, speaking of 'rules'...
There were none that the Kallannan's were actually enforcing, but they did kindly suggest one thing; one tiny little thing that wouldn't be a huge imposition and would please the Kallannan's elders...
So SG-1 had taken their boots and socks off.
And therein lay the problem: she couldn't stop staring at his bare feet.
Which was utterly ridiculous. She wasn't a foot person; never had been. When it came to admiring male attributes she usually started with the hands, and arms (and yes, she had spent a disproportionate amount of time trying to stare at his without getting caught. She hadn't always been successful). His hands in particular were well-defined and-
God, what was she doing thinking about this on a mission? Talk about unprofessional.
Still...it was hardly her fault. There was no apparent threat to their safety, and there was nothing that required her particular expertise - no advanced technology, nothing that their superiors back home would want to backward engineer and use to their advantage. Nothing scientific that personally fascinated her.
It was one of the rare missions where, for once, all she needed to focus on were the people.
Jonas loved the experience the way he seemed to love all experiences - he jumped right in (figuratively), smiling, greeting, trying - but not always succeeding - in deciphering some of the subtle language differences. Not that it ever stopped him. He just smiled, and tried again.
Teal'c also seemed to be enjoying himself, embracing the Kallannan people (again, figuratively), particularly many of the children who seemed fascinated by him. It was understandable, Sam mused. No one on Kallanna seemed to have his build. Or his baldness.
As for the Colonel...he was sitting next to her on the grass. Leaning forward with his forearms resting against his raised knees, sunglasses pulled down over his eyes because of the bright sunlight (though really, he never needed an excuse to wear them), his elbow occasionally brushing against her arm as they smiled, talked, and tried to show the best of humanity to the Kallannan.
For all of five minutes.
The moment that the Kallannan elder they were currently talking to - Hashan - turned to confer with his second about something, the Colonel suddenly spoke to her.
Except he didn't just speak. He whispered. Right next to her ear. His face, almost pressing against hers.
Oh boy.
"Carter, what's your problem?"
Problem? She didn't have a problem. Unless you happened to consider lusting after your superior officer a problem... "Sir?" Yeah, so even though she wasn't exactly looking at him (and was, in fact, concentrating on his feet again), maybe she deliberately moved her face slightly closer to his. Maybe.
"You keep *staring* at my *feet*."
Oops. Her gaze suddenly shifted up to his shins - which were, thankfully, covered by his pants. The idea of risking an obsession with yet another body part didn't bear thinking about.
Denial thundered through her brain...but he'd only tell her she was lying. So she opted for a form of the truth. "Sorry sir. I guess I'm just...not used to seeing them." And definitely not out in the sun, where he looked so damn good anyway - but then really, were there many conditions under which he *didn't* look good?
Oh, this was bad. What the hell was wrong with her? She'd yet to eat or drink anything foreign to Earth, so was it possible there was something in the atmosphere that was making her horny?
She almost snorted, imagining that theory turning up in her official report.
"Well," He replied softly. "I'm not used to seeing *your* feet either," Good *God*, he was so close she could almost swear she could feel his throat vibrating as he talked. She kept her eyes very carefully focused on his pants. "But you don't see me ogling yours."
She was not going to close her eyes, even if she could feel his breath on her skin. She was not going to tilt her face further towards his, concentrating on the warmth of the sun, and the other heat - the kind emanating from his body, the kind that seemed almost tangible, more overwhelming than the heat from the sun. She was not going to bite gently onto her lower lip, and imagine what it would be like to touch him, right at that moment.
She was so determined not to do any of that...so that probably explained why she did all of it.
And Sam decided she was blaming hormones. Human beings weren't infallible, right? Their bodies often betrayed them. And while - at that moment in time - she could no more remember when her period was due than she could remember what her surname was; she was definitely blaming hormones.
Her eyes were still closed, her world full of nothing but the vague light that was visible through her eyelids, and the heat of him next to her. Almost touching.
Him.
Oh yeah. He'd be expecting a response.
"No," She jumped slightly, when her moving lips brushed what had to be skin. Was he really *that* close? "You're not."
He shifted, his body angling more towards hers, and though she still couldn't see anything, somehow she simply knew that his eyes were closed too, that - somehow - he was feeling the same.
Body touched body, even through the layers of clothing.
Something that shouldn't have been happening was happening. Something that she should have been fighting against she wasn't fighting against.
His left hand rubbed slowly over her back, the fingers of his right tracing the side of her face. "Carter," He breathed, his forehead now resting against hers. "I am feeling the...unbelievable urge to-"
"If you don't kiss me right now I swear I'm going to-mmph!"
Her last remaining concept of the universe at large fled - all that was left was *them*. There were no names, no identities; no one and nothing except for the mouth moving against hers, his shiver when her hand played with the hair at the back of his neck; of slowly being lowered, of his weight partially on top of her, of the need to do nothing more than *kiss*, the simple yet elaborate joy that came with-
"Uh, Colonel?"
Jonas.
A name.
An identity.
The universe came back so suddenly that she cried out when the kiss ended - but was saved some humiliation by the fact that at least she wasn't alone.
She didn't remember opening her eyes but she must have; she was staring up at him now, his confusion and frustration mirroring her own, the shadow of him over her blocking the sunlight. "What...?"
"Was that?" He suggested heavily.
"That was a moment," Hashan replied.
She should have moved her head to look at him. In fact, the Colonel should have been moving too - off of her. They both should have been asking questions.
Jonas did instead. "A moment of what?"
"That depends on the individual. Happiness, sadness, truth...a moment. It does not happen to everyone - your friends are most lucky. This bodes well for a possible future alliance."
"So...seeing Colonel O'Neill and Major Carter kiss could well have..." He paused, obviously searching for the right terminology. "Sealed the deal?"
There were many outcomes Sam had envisioned in the past, of exactly what would happen if *they* actually *kissed*.
This wasn't one of them.
"In effect, yes."
Judging by his blinking, the Colonel was having as much trouble with the idea as she was.
"Well what causes these 'moments' to occur?"
"We are unsure," Hashan admitted. "Perhaps something we touch, or something that we breathe."
There really *was* something in the atmosphere making her horny?
"All we know for certain is that it *is*. And there seems to be no way to determine exactly what type of 'moment' someone is going to experience."
She should have been wondering how it worked, even if it wasn't her field of expertise. She should have been theorising, wondering, suggesting - anything except for still staring at her commanding officer, who was still staring down at her.
She wondered when he'd taken his sunglasses off.
"Well," Jonas mused aloud. "Something tells me they didn't experience sadness."
~FINIS