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It had been a couple of days since Jack had woken up alone in bed. The rumpled white pillow next to his gave it away. Looking over his shoulder toward the bathroom door, he checked for Sam, but the bathroom was dark.
The clock read oh-two-hundred-ish. It was Christmas morning, but just barely. Pulling himself out of bed in his sweats and undershirt, Jack dragged himself to the bedroom door and down the stairs.
The kitchen light was on, and he could smell something sweet. It wasn’t Sam this time.
In her pajamas and sock feet, Sam turned, pulling a finger from between her lips as she did. The spoon in her hand had some kind of food on it, presumably.
“Hey,” she grimaced. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.” Jack ran a hand through his inevitably rumpled hair.
“Midnight snack?” he asked, taking a seat at the bar.
“Something like that. They’re for Santa.”
“Santa? As in, red suit, big black boots, over the top belt buckle?”
“That’s the one,” she answered with a smile.
“Uhh, Carter, I’m not sure if this is the right time to bring this up, but I feel like if there is a right time it was probably thirty years ago...”
“Very funny. Hand me that oven mitt, please?”
“What?” Jack looked around spotting the mitten on the counter in front of him and handing it to her after she opened the oven door. Chocolate chip cookies emerged, beautifully round and browned with the perfect distribution of chips. Didn’t it just figure that Carter would be good at this?
“Want one?” she offered.
“Depends,” he answered, rubbing a hand over his stubble. It was a far cry from a fluffy white beard. “Do I have to put on the suit?”
“I’ll let it slide this time,” she answered, plating a too warm cookie and sliding it to him across the bar. Sam switched off the oven and plated her own cookie, joining him at the bar on the stool beside his.
“So...” Jack began after his first bite. “Are you going to tell me what’s going on?” Sam looked over, smiling faintly and turning her attention back to her cookie where she was pulling it apart into tiny pieces with her fingers, Jack suspected, just for something to do.
“I know it's silly, but... I used to do this with my mom. Every Christmas Eve. I thought I’d skip it this year, but,” Sam explained looking over at him with a shrug. “Couldn’t sleep.”
“It’s not silly.”
“But there’s something else. I think the older I get, the more important it is to hold on to those things that I used to do with her. She’s the only mother I’ve ever had, and I was hoping to maybe do some of those things with our kids someday. Maybe keep a piece of her alive for them.”
“Our kids?”
“Yeah. Would that be so bad?” Sam asked, not looking at him.
“Uhh, no. I think that would be pretty great actually.” Sam’s blue eyes swung over to his, searching him for something.
“Really?” she asked, and she was looking back and forth between his eyes now, unable to settle on one.
“Yeah. Don’t you think so?”
“I do.”
“I think you would be a great mom. You know, except for the odd middle of the night baking jag.” Sam let out an amused breath, and slipped a miniscule bite of her cookie into her mouth.
“I’m glad you feel that way.”
“Me on the other hand, you’d have to keep your eye on me,” Jack teased.
“No, I wouldn’t. There’s no one else I’d want to raise a child with. No one better.” In principle, Jack took issue with her pronouncement, but now didn’t seem like the time to argue the point.
“Glad to hear it since... ya know, we’re married.”
“I’m pregnant,” Sam all but whispered as she stared deeply into a chocolate chip. Jack wasn’t sure what was so fascinating about a—hold up... pregnant?
“With a baby?” he asked.
“God, I hope so. But you can never be sure in my line of work,” she joked, still failing to look at him.
“Sam...” Jack went on, needing to read her, and hoping for her eyes. She looked scared, nervous, maybe even a little hopeful when she looked up at him.
“Merry Christmas?” she asked.
“Are you happy about this?” he asked. Sure, she had been talking about baking cookies with their kids, but theoretical kids were different than an actual kid. Sam was different than other women, but only because she was more than other women. Before they were married, neither of them had been sure that this was something that they would want, and as far as he knew, she still wasn’t sure. They certainly hadn’t been trying. Not that they hadn’t been... you know, trying, but they had taken precautions.
“I’m happy if you’re happy,” she answered, and it occurred to Jack that he was pretty different than other guys too, and they both knew it.
“Happy? Yes. A little terrified? Also, yes,” he answered just above a whisper.
“Honestly, same.”
“I think that might be a normal response,” he guessed.
“Huh... who knew it would take a baby for us to be normal?”
“I mean, I wouldn’t expect it to last,” he cautioned her, and she smiled, some of her nervousness seeming to drop away. “So, you’re pregnant.”
“Yep.”
“Nice!” he exclaimed, and swiveled his stool toward her where she sat holding back a giggle.
“I think so too,” she agreed, and before he could let her get any more of that thought into words, he needed to hold her. Her lithe body molded to his when he stood, pulling her from her seat and taking her in his arms. Jack held tightly to the woman who had given him a life he never deserved, never expected, never wanted to lose. And now, she was going to give him a child to which all of those same sentiments applied.
“Love you, Sam,” he whispered with a kiss against her hair, and breaking away from her, he dragged a palm from her back to her front, and settled it softly on her belly.
“I love you too,” she answered, resting her hand over his. “Both of you.”
“And I gotta say, you’re already knocking this mom thing out of the park. The kid isn’t even out of the womb yet, and you’re already hitting the Christmas traditions hard.”
“Or maybe I just wanted a cookie,” Sam smiled at him with a shrug.
“There’s that,” Jack allowed with a kiss to her upturned lips. “Wanna try to sleep?”
“I don’t know if I can,” she told him, resting her arms around his neck. “Too excited.”
“Well, I do know one thing that tends to distract and relax you,” Jack slid his hands over her hips, pulling her closer.
“Jack O’Neill, if you crack a joke about coming down my chimney, you’re sleeping on the couch.”
“I meant a crossword puzzle, lady. Get your mind out of the gutter,” he chastised her. “Although, now that you mention it, I’m thinking a re-enactment might be a nice way to celebrate. Or we could shoot for twins. To be clear, I would be doing the shooting.”
“Yeah, I got that.” Sam’s disapproving glare only thinly veiled her amusement.
“Okay, okay. Sleep. We’ll shoot for sleep, but if those pregnancy hormones kick in and you need a little Christmas cheer, you just say the word.”
“Mmm, maybe I’ll just wake you up early for some Christmas cheer. This is the last Christmas it’ll be just us. You’ll need the early wake-up call practice.”
“I’ll practice with you every day,” he promised.
“God, you’re right about the hormones though,” Sam admitted with a blush, and Jack’s grin grew at her embarrassment.
“Oh yeah? Ready for a visit to my North Pole?” he offered, squeezing and pulling playfully at her hips.
“Oh my God,” Sam exclaimed with a hollow thump to his chest.
“What? You said I couldn’t say the thing about coming down your chimney.”
“Why do I love you?” But Sam was grinning. If she was really trying to get him to behave, the grin was doing nothing for her cause.
“You always did ask good questions.”
“Jack,” Sam set a palm on his cheek, and he saw a little sparkle in her blue eyes. “We’re having a baby.”
“Cool, huh?” he asked, his grin matching hers.
“Very cool.”
“Not unlike the North Pole. Just saying.”
“Fine. You can come down my chimney, but only because we’ll both be too tired to do it next Christmas,” she relented, pulling him by the hand, flicking off the kitchen light and heading up the stairs.
“Don’t count on it, Mrs. Claus. Chocolate chip cookies are Santa’s fuel, and I hear some sexy little mama is going to leave some out for him next year.”
“I need you to know that the Santa schtick is getting weird for me.”
“I wouldn’t have it any other way, Carter.”