R. Daniel/Jack/Sam, minor angst, mostly PWP. Spoilers for S8 Endgame. I wanted to see if I could write first-time OT3, so I did. And then it sat around for a year. And now here it is. Thanks: The friends who told me it had legs.
Disclaimer: Not mine, no profit.
After three bottles of wine, half a bottle of tequila, eight limes, and too many Carter-Jackson giggling fits, Teal’c leaves them to it. He takes every car key he can find, and gives Sam a long hug on his way out. He says something to her, too, but Daniel’s in the kitchen and can’t hear. And Jack is, God help them all, singing.
Sam closes her front door behind Teal’c, leans against it, and sinks down to the hardwood floor. She’s had a rough week.
On Saturday, she gave Pete Shanahan’s ring back. On Sunday, she argued with Pete Shanahan. On Monday she argued with Daniel, Teal’c, and the military commander of PXC-2901. On Tuesday, she said about three words to Daniel, Teal’c, and the military commander of PXC-2901, and not quite argued with Jack via MALP. On Wednesday, she argued with Jack for an hour, and got word that her father would be out of contact for at least six months. On Thursday, she locked herself in her lab all day, and none of them dared to go near it. On Friday, Jack was officially informed that he was being reassigned to Iraq.
This morning, Saturday, Daniel dragged Jack and Teal’c to Sam’s house and pulled her out of bed. Then they dragged her to breakfast, dragged her to a bowling alley where she kicked their asses, dragged her to the terrible sci-fi movie of her choice, and ended up back at her place with a lot of pizza and a whole lot of liquor.
Daniel knows, through the tequila, that Sam’s reluctance today was staged to help him and Jack and Teal’c save face. They needed this day as much as she did. And it says a lot about how much Sam’s changed in the last eight years, if she’s now willing to play the girl so the guys can grieve, too.
But it’s one in the morning, and Jack’s singing “Over There” while tossing a nerf football he found in Sam’s basement, and Sam’s still slumped by the door.
Daniel shuffles down the hall and pulls her up with one hand. “You need to stop the noise pollution,” he says, and leads her into the living room.
Sam shoves Jack’s legs out of the way and plops down on the couch. Daniel sits on her other side, and then Jack’s feet are in Daniel’s lap. Both the singing and the nerf-tossing stop.
“Teal’c’s gone,” Sam says.
“Yes, he is, Carter.”
“He probably won’t stay on Earth very long once you go, you know.”
“I’m not leaving the planet, Carter. Possibly the continent. Not the solar system.”
Daniel watches her twist the hem of Jack’s khakis between her thumb and forefinger. She’s definitely done with her giggling phase, and Daniel knows a maudlin phase always comes next. He’s leaning that way, himself. “I don’t think Teal’c will go, Sam,” he says, though he doesn’t believe it. “He’s loyal to you, too.”
Jack doesn’t have a giggly phase or a maudlin phase. He swings his legs off the two remaining members of SG-1 and sits up. “I think the point was to forget all this crap, Daniel.”
Daniel narrowly avoids reminding Jack that he was just singing war songs. “Okay,” he says, “Mr. Sweetness and Light. What should we do instead?”
Sam yawns. Jack thinks for a full minute and finally says, “I have no fucking clue.”
Jack has two weeks before he ships out. He could retire instead, but Daniel knows he won’t. And what Daniel finds most insane about the whole thing is that neither Jack nor Sam has objected to what Jack calls “the re-assing.” They’re sad, but they’re not pissed off.
Daniel’s pissed off. He knows that General Hammond called Jack from the Pentagon, and he knows that there was something about a lack of objectivity by General O’Neill at the SGC, and something about poor judgment. He thinks it’s related to that Trust thing last month, when Jack wouldn’t authorize an attack on their ship while Daniel and Sam were aboard. But what the hell else was Jack supposed to do? And who’s better qualified to run the place?
Sam yawns again.
“You should fight this, Jack,” Daniel says softly, and feels Sam tense up, where their shoulders touch.
“Daniel, don’t,” Jack says.
“But what if you —”
“Daniel.”
“I’m sure General Hammond’s already done everything he can, Daniel,” Sam says.
Daniel’s not sure Hammond’s still on their side. And he’ll never understand how two people as intelligent as Jack and Sam can just roll over and take it.
Sam squeezes Daniel’s knee, and he sighs. Then she pats Jack’s leg and stands up, swaying a little. “Come on,” she says. “I’m about to pass out, and you guys aren’t going anywhere.”
Jack groans and pushes himself up. It takes Daniel two tries, and some help from Sam.
“We’re going to have to share, though,” she says as she crosses through the kitchen. “The sheets for my guest bedroom have been growing mold in the washer since last week.”
“Carter?” Jack asks, stopping.
She turns, rolling her eyes when she sees his face. “Oh, please. It’s no different from sharing a tent offworld.”
Daniel shrugs. They could all probably use a group hug. Or a whole night of group hugs.
“Um,” Jack says.
“Shut up, sir.” She looks as scary as she did on PXC-2901. Daniel reaches for his pistol, then remembers he’s unarmed.
Jack shuts up.
Jack’s eyes open slowly. It’s not very dark — the glare of a streetlight slants through Carter’s blinds — but he’s still very drunk. The clock a foot away from his face blinks that they’ve only been in bed for a couple hours. In Carter’s bed, which is something he isn’t ready to think about, even if he did like curling up with his friends and listening to them fall asleep. He’s missed that since his promotion.
But what he hears now isn’t sleep. What he hears now is — kissing? Really?
He’s probably not ready to think about that yet, either. But he rolls over anyway, and yeah, Daniel, half on top of Carter, and sleepy, sloppy kisses.
Carter lets out a high-pitched sigh and oh, holy crap. Jack’s pretty sure they’ve never — no. He’s sure they’ve never. He might not be able to navigate his way to Carter’s bathroom, but he’s sure they’ve never. She was engaged until last weekend, right? Wasn’t she?
Daniel starts sucking on Carter’s jaw, and her head tips back into the pillow. Jack knows he should get up and leave. He should. But — holy crap.
“Hey,” he says, mostly involuntarily.
They both turn their heads to look at him, their cheeks close together, lips a deep, matching red. Daniel blinks. Carter gives Jack a small smile and snakes a hand to his neck.
Oh, he is in very deep shit.
“Whatcha doin’?” he asks, in a voice that sounds both squeaky and thick to his own ears.
“Nothing,” Carter says.
“Oh.” And okay, the hand in Jack’s hair is not Carter’s. Not Carter’s at all.
“Sam and I are in complete agreement,” Daniel says, cradling Jack’s skull. “We don’t think you should go.”
Jack swallows. Sort of. “Can we not talk about that right now?”
Carter draws her thumb across the top of Jack’s spine, back and forth. Oh, no, he’s not too close to his flagship team.
“Something else you’d like to talk about?” she asks. Her hair’s a mess, from sleep or from Daniel, and it falls into her eyes.
Daniel wets his lips.
“Um. No,” Jack says. “Nothing at all.” His hand lands on Carter’s stomach, though not, thank God, under her shirt. They’re all still wearing their street clothes, and it’s getting warm even though there’s only one sheet. Yes, that’s why it’s getting warm, the clothes. Absolutely.
Carter squirms under his palm.
Daniel pulls Jack’s head to his own, over Carter, and kisses his lips lightly. Oh, holy crap. It takes Jack a few seconds to open his eyes, afterwards. They’re both watching him.
“Uh,” Jack says. “I’ve never —”
“Neither have I,” Daniel says, his fingers twisting in Jack’s hair, and oh. That makes it easier, somehow. And maybe what he feels for each of them, and for Teal’c, isn’t so different.
Carter mumbles something that might be agreement. Jack gulps down some air, and kisses her. It’s longer than he intends it to be. And there’s a third tongue in his ear.
Well. This is so not how he expected this to happen. He didn’t expect Daniel to be in the goddamn bed, for one thing, and for the past year he’s been sure the Carter train had well and truly left the station. But he also didn’t expect her to be as vulnerable as she’s been this week, and he especially didn’t expect to be shipped off from his command in semi-disgrace.
She tastes nice, though. Sharp like alcohol, and spicy-sweet like the mulled wine he remembers from a military Christmas in Germany, decades ago. His tongue melts into hers, and she sighs that same high-pitched sigh. It sounds even better now, when he can feel the vibration through his lips.
And yeah, when Daniel’s biting Jack’s earlobe. That helps, too.
Then Carter’s moving — her elbow hits him in the stomach — and she grabs Jack’s hand and leads it south, and then Daniel’s fingers are there, too. They all shove her jeans out of the way, and Jack dips the tip of one finger inside her, and Daniel spreads Carter’s lips as she shudders. And it’s Daniel kissing him now — he tastes different, more urgent — and somebody tugs at Jack’s fly, and oh. Oh. They’re really going to do this. Holy crap. But — yeah. Daniel’s hand, slick from Carter, is on Jack suddenly, and Carter scrapes Jack’s chest and pushes down on his fingers, and Daniel’s tongue grazes the roof of Jack’s mouth, and yeah. Doing this isn’t a bad idea at all.
Sam feels the bed dip, feels a loss of warmth at her back. Then there’s some tussling, and Jack saying, “Jesus, Daniel!” as Daniel climbs over him.
Daniel’s feet hit the floor with a thump, followed by what sounds like a hop. “Gotta go gotta go gotta go,” he says.
“Nice,” Jack calls after him.
Sam chokes back a laugh, then realizes what a mistake that was when her head throbs. She needs water, badly. And maybe Alka-Seltzer.
It’s brighter now than the last time she woke up, when Daniel was facing her on the same pillow, and she kissed him before she could talk herself out of it. It’s morning.
The bed dips again, and Jack tugs at her.
“Hey,” she objects feebly.
“Cold now.”
“Sure you are.” She slides close, though, rolling to face him. God, her breath is atrocious. The sheets reek of alcohol, too.
“Hey,” he says warmly.
“Hey.” She brushes aside a reflex of guilt. He might be her CO for a couple more weeks, but he’s already lost his job because he loves them too much; that’s no more or less true now than it was yesterday. Her fiancé could never have fit into her life the way Jack and Daniel and Teal’c do; that’s no truer now, either.
Jack combs through her hair, over and over, scratching her scalp a little.
“You’re going to take the job, aren’t you?” she says.
His eyes lock on hers. “I think I have to.”
“Oh, God.”
“Generals don’t generally die in combat, Carter.” He works up a fake grin. “As a general rule.”
“I know. It’s just …” She can’t say what it is.
The toilet flushes, and water runs through the pipes. “You guys don’t want to know how close I came to wetting the bed,” Daniel says, padding across the room.
“Please don’t share,” Jack says. His hand stills in Sam’s hair, at the crown of her head.
Daniel stands by the bed. “You took my spot,” he says.
“Tough luck, shard-boy,” Jack says. But Sam shifts backwards, dragging Jack with her, and Daniel climbs in to spoon behind Jack. Daniel squeezes Sam’s hip.
There’s a long, comfortable moment when all Sam hears is their steady breathing. She wishes Teal’c were here, though. Maybe not for the sex, because his girlfriend could cause them all permanent harm, but definitely for this.
Daniel clears his throat. “We’re not supposed to talk about missing you, are we?”
“No,” Jack says. He drops his hand to Sam’s neck. Daniel’s rubbing her thigh, and she curves her leg over them both.
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