Secret Santa for angiescully "Happy New Year"
For angiescully for sj_everyday Secret Santa
Spoilers: Set post S5 Stargate Atlantis so every season of SG-1 and SGA
Rating: PG/Teen+
A/N: Sorry, day late! Oops!
“Happy New Year!” shouted various voices around the room. Party poppers went off, hard to differentiate from champagne corks popping, balloons fell from the ceiling and couples kissed. All the merriment was lost on one Jack O’Neill, who sat slumped in a chair in the corner of the East Room, Guinness in hand.
“General O’Neill, I hearby *order* you attend,” the President had stated when Jack had casually mentioned begging off the party because his date was stranded at O’Hare airport in Chicago due to a massive snow snowstorm. Okay, that was the “cover story” for everyone else; the President knew the truth. In actuality her space ship, The George Hammond, had a flat - or a breakdown, or a doohickey malfunction - about 100 light years from earth.
She had already missed spending Christmas with him at the cabin with Daniel and Teal’c. Had there been a Stargate nearby, any lesser officer might be tempted to gate home, but not Samantha Carter, he knew. As it was, there wasn’t, and he totally understood. He hated it, but he totally understood. He had chosen to return to Washington rather than stay on alone at the cabin for New Year’s weekend, and when his boss got wind of it, insisted on the General attending the bash.
“Jack, if you don’t quit moping in the dark corner, I’m going to kick your a$$.”
O’Neill didn’t bother to look up at the sound of the familiar voice but chuffed into his bottle and took a long pull.
“You and what squadron, Hank?”
“Don’t need a squadron. Been exercising and training with Teal’c the past three months. My daughter threatened to fail me on the physical if I didn’t start eating better and exercising regularly. Not sure where she got that stubborn streak, much less the dictatorial manner.”
“Napoleonic power monger.”
“Excuse me?”
“’Swhat I used to call Old Doc Fraiser every time she threatened me with big needles and insisted on my enjoying her hospitality in the infirmary.”
“Ah, right. Met her once or twice. Five feet nuthin’, a hundred and nuthin’ of pure spitfire. Wish everyone under my command had half the gumption.”
“Indeed.” The word made O’Neill even more lonely for his old team, especially the female member who - d*mnit - was supposed to be on his arm this evening. He barely got her back from the Pegasus Galaxy before she goes off traipsing around the Milky Way galaxy in her space ship. And him stuck here earthbound, wanting to retire but not allowed - and what would he do with himself if he did anyway?
“A lot of folks’ loved ones aren’t home for the holidays, Jack. I certainly would prefer to ring in the New Year with Carolyn than a room full of brass and politicos.” He failed to mention Caroline spent the entire week with her mom and not him.
“I know. It’s just…” O’Neill stood, handed Landry his empty bottle and walked away with a perfunctory, “Excuse me.” The second general turned to watch his friend wind through the crowd of revelers to a gorgeous, tall blonde decorating the doorway in a stunning little black dress that accentuated her feminine attributes perfectly. Her hair, which she wore darker blonde nowadays, was up in an graceful completely unmilitary hairstyle. Everything down to the pearls, matching earrings, strappy black shoes and small black handbag spoke “beautiful” elegantly.
Hank smiled at the Colonel’s ability to pull another “miracle” out of her…six. Fully expecting the General and Colonel to make a hasty retreat rather than return to him, he handed the bottle to a passing waiter and wandered across the room to wish SecNav and his wife a Happy New Year. Thus, his jaw dropped when they followed him there.
“Colonel Carter, I had heard we might not expect you back for another 72 hours or more,” SecNav stated over Landry’s shoulder. “Happy New Year. And to you as well, General O’Neill.”
“ Thank you, Sir,” O’Neill answered. “You, too.”
“Thank you, Sir,” echoed Sam. “I had a highly motivated crew, Sir. I threatened to make the crew walk the plank if they didn’t get me home by ball drop.”
“Aren’t you in the Air Force, not the Navy, Colonel?” Mrs. SecNav asked.
“Yes, Ma’am. Walking the plank at 50,000 feet is…unpleasant.”
“Well, I imagine it is,” a commanding voice agreed.
“Mr. President, Happy New Year!” Sam punctuated the greeting with her beautiful grin.
“And to you as well, Colonel Carter. You’ve met my wife…”
“Yes, nice to see you again, Ma’am. Happy New Year.” POTUS’ spouse thanked her and greeted the others in her circle. Protocol be d*mned, however, as all the focus still seemed to fall on the most junior officer in the bunch.
All Jack O’Neill wanted was to steal her away from them all and keep her to himself. Everyone in the group understood that. However, Colonel Carter refused to show up late to a party and immediately depart, causing all the DC tongues to wag more than they already would. She had insisted they stay at least an hour to make it more seemly.
“General O’Neill, you haven’t said much. Aren’t you as happy as the rest of us to have Colonel Carter back on Terra Firma?” the President asked about ten minutes into the conversation. No one else had expected him to linger so long in one confab. The First Lady had just steered Sam and Mrs. SecNav toward the decorations on the mantle.
“Of course, Sir,” O’Neill answered. He chose his words carefully, as he had learned to do in Washington. “Colonel Carter was always a valuable member of my team and an asset to my command.”
“We appreciate your sharing her with us this evening. I know you had planned to be in Minnesota with your whole team for Christmas and New Year’s.” Well, they both knew that wasn’t *exactly* the truth. O’Neill, obtuse for a pretty intelligent guy, did not understand his Commander in Chief’s subtleties. Was he excusing them to leave?
Just then, O’Neill’s Aide-de-camp appeared at the President’s side and handed POTUS a small black box. O’Neill’s eyes narrowed and then widened. It couldn’t be! He looked at Sam, who was engrossed in something the First Lady was saying about the tree. She glanced his way - seeming to know he was looking at her. She smiled and didn’t appear to notice the other exchange.
The President handed O’Neill the black box.
“Sir?”
“I believe you had planned to ask the Colonel something this evening, had you not, General?”
“Uh, yes, Sir, but how did *you* know that?” In that instant Jack knew exactly who had spilled the beans. “I’m going to kill Daniel.”
“Again?”
“I just shot him the last time - for a good reason. I’ll kill him this time.”
Another really good question was how Mr. President knew where the ring was and how the General’s aide had obtained it. But he didn’t ask.
“Colonel, have you seen the official White House tree in the Blue Room yet?” the President asked as the ladies rejoined them.
“No, Sir.”
“Jack, I believe you will find the Blue Room unoccupied at the moment. Why don’t you take Sam over and show her. You really shouldn’t miss it.” His dropping of their ranks went unnoticed by no one. Sam actually blushed and didn’t move. “Really, I insist.”
His words felt more like “dismissed” to the career military officers, especially as everyone else in the circle turned their attention elsewhere almost on cue.
Jack inhaled deeply and grabbed her elbow. “Shall we?”
They found the 18’ tall Douglas fir tree with its refurbished ornaments featuring lots of America’s famous landmarks and the ribbon stating this year’s theme of “Reflect, Rejoice and Renew”. Sam walked around inspecting them closely. Jack followed, inspecting her.
“You’re staring, Sir.”
“Yes, I am. Can’t tear my eyes off the most beautiful sight in the room.”
Sam dipped her head, blushed and smiled.
“Thank you, Sir.”
“We’re alone, Sam.”
“And yet…” She continued her loop of the 13-foot wide tree in silence. Suddenly, she came face-to-face with Jack, because he had stopped following her and reversed direction. His hand fiddling in his pocket drew her attention downward. She stifled a grin and asked, “Is that an ornament in your pocket, or are you just that happy to see me, General?”
Jack smirked. Then he schooled his expression, and with effort, got down on one knee, eliciting a gasp from Sam. From his pocket he pulled out the ring. He took her left hand in both of his, cleared his throat and looked up.
Sam searched his face and came to the realization of exactly why he had been *so* upset she missed Christmas.
“Samantha Carter, I love you. I’ve loved you probably since the moment you taught me that ‘just because your reproductive organs are on the inside instead of the outside, doesn't mean you can't handle whatever I can handle.’ Will you marry me?”
“You had to quote *that* statement?”
“Sam,” he said in the same tone with which he had said, “Watch it,” when she had ordered him to pilot the shuttle when he had relinquished command to her. “Couldja maybe hurry up with the yes part? Kneeling is not getting any easier these days.”
“Would you please stand up, then?”
“Yes or no first?”
“Yes.”
“Really?”
“You doubted?”
“I hoped.”
Sam helped him up.
“Is there a ring hiding in that pocket?”
“If I say yes will you go looking for it?”
She refused to dignify that with a verbal answer but looked around, noting the security cameras.
“Ah. Yes, well then.” Jack pulled the ring out, took Sam’s left hand and slipped the ring on her third finger. And then, security cameras or not, he kissed her very thoroughly. “Merry Christmas, Sam,” he whispered when they broke apart.
“Happy New Year, Jack,” she answered before kissing him again.
“Sam,” he asked when next they came up for air, “may we leave *now*?” The way she chuckled into his neck, they either had to leave or he needed to find some privacy for a few minutes to take care of a certain issue.
“You mean, you didn’t book us a suite upstairs?”
“As far as I knew, you weren’t coming.” He responded to the blush and grin on her face with a smirk of his own. “I’d like to take care of that, too.” She hit him with her bag.
“What kind of girl do you think I am, Jack O’Neill. No dinner, no drinks one a kiss under the mistletoe -”
“Two kisses.”
“Two kisses and you think you -”
“And no mistletoe.”
“You have mistletoe at your place?”
“I have nothing but 2-week-old salsa and a case of Guinness at my house because I expected to be in Minnesota with a certain hot blonde tonight.”
“Let’s get our coats, and I’ll see what I can do about that.”
Ten minutes later, standing outside on the Portico, Colonel Carter spoke briefly to the officer on duty aboard the George Hammond via a communication device in her handbag. In a flash of light, the two officers disappeared. They rematerialized in the main room of Jack’s cold, dark cabin, where Jack quickly got a blaze going in the fireplace.
“You know,” Jack commented between kisses, “I have no clothes here.”
“Are you expecting to need any?”
“Good point.”