Casting the Net
by ALC Punk!

They had always seemed a little more fetish than she was.

Until the first time she put them on--Janet had convinced her that they both needed a pair when they were drunk one night. And so they'd both bought them and tried them on the next time they were together.

It had been a strange thing, slightly constricting, but definitely freeing. And the texture made her want to fiddle with them a lot. She liked them. Liked the way the dark lines stood out against her pale skin (she rarely saw sunlight, and when she did, it wasn't with bare legs). It had been interesting to run her hands down them, catching the loops here and there and tugging.

She'd become so absorbed she'd stopped watching the movie they'd rented for their girls' night in and missed half-naked men.

Janet mocked her for weeks after that.

But Sam liked wearing them, so she did it when she could -- even if that wasn't all that often. Team nights, for instance. When she could lounge around in old sweats and a baggy t-shirt, and have Daniel mock her for letting Jack beat her at chess (not that there was letting involved). She could be comfortable. And feel slightly girly, and maybe just a little bit sexy. And only she would know.

Not that she wanted them to think of her as sexy. She was one of the guys, after all.

So, it was really Janet's fault that he finally noticed them.

It had been another long week of freezing rain and mud and ice and just generally being shot at by natives who didn't appreciate the SGC. SG-1 were now on down time for the weekend, and Jack had ordered everyone to his house for a barbecue. Which they never actually did because pizza was easier and didn't require them to actually do anything.

They'd all ended up in the living room. Somehow, Sam claimed the couch with her shoes off and her feet propped on the coffee table. Jack was on the floor, his back against the couch somewhat slouched, head leaning against her knee. Across from them, Daniel and Teal'c lounged in chairs. Daniel occasionally waved his bottle around. They were watching some thing on tv, none of them really caring to pay attention, because, well, they were tired and cold and bored.

Sam wriggled her toes and let out a sigh. She was actually getting a little over-heated (hence the bare feet), probably because of the three shots of tequila Daniel had taunted her into.

"Bored, Carter?"

No. Yes. He sounded bored, too. "Sort of."

"Ah."

Silence again--well, silence between the two of them. Daniel had started enthusiastically disagreeing with the documentary on the TV. At least, she thought it was a documentary. It might have been a movie. He kept gesturing emphatically with his beer, and she was glad it was empty or Jack's carpet would have been in danger.

Then Jack reached over and poked her feet. She resisted the urge to kick him.

Encouraged by her lack of response, he carefully slid a finger under the edge of her sweatpants, caressing her ankle. She blinked. Jack O'Neill was caressing her ankle. Okay, touching it. Poking. Exposing it. Without his asking, she reached down and slid both pant legs up until they bunched at her knees. Black lines cris-crossed her skin. She knew it looked decadent, she liked that it felt that way, too.

He seemed utterly fascinated with the skin being exposed. Especially when his (maybe) drunken brain latched onto the fact that she was wearing fishnets. One tentative hand brushed down her right leg from knee to ankle. Sam closed her eyes.

Fingers and hands (when had he moved enough to get two hands on her legs?) drifted up and down. Sometimes massaging, sometimes simply feeling, a few times, he tugged at the elasticity of the net-like weave.

It was relaxing and yet not. Simply because of who he was (and who she was, and right now, she really didn't want to think about it--he was simply a guy, and he seemed to like touching her legs), a tension began building inside. She liked the way his hands felt, and had a feeling this would give her lots of inspiration for many nights to come.

Eventually, they shifted until one of her legs was draped over his shoulder. His very talented hands were treating her foot to a very nice massage. Her calf and ankle got rubbed, too.

"Oh, can you two just get a room already?" Daniel sounded drunk. He probably was.

"Daniel Jackson, are we not in a room?"

Teal'c was probably just doing it to distract the man. Sam would have thanked him, but her eyes were closed and most of her body was focused on Jack's now very still hands.

"A room, Teal'c. As in, go have sex somewhere other than Jack's living room where we have to see it."

"Daniel." Jack's voice held a note of warning.

"Jack." The irrepressible archeologist returned.

"Daniel." Sam said, her voice calm and almost-bored. "Jealous?"

The hand on her ankle hooked its thumb through one of the fishnet holes and began tugging.

"Yes. To be perfectly honest, I am."

Sam opened her eyes and looked at him. "There's nothing to be jealous of." Her voice was soft.

"Isn't there?"

"Daniel, you're drunk," Jack muttered. His hands were still toying with the fishnet at her ankle. She considered telling him that would stretch it out too much, but it was just this side of distracting and she figured she needed distracting.

"Fine."

Sam abruptly pulled her leg from Jack's shoulder and shifted to curl with both legs underneath her. "What're we watching?"

"I don't know." Daniel sounded tired, he set the bottle down and looked at Teal'c. "I think I need to go home."

"You can stay here in the guest room." The offer sounded genuine, but Jack also sounded tired. He moved and began standing.

"No. No, I think I should go. Sam should stay."

"Teal'c can drive both of us," Sam stood, too and tugged the sweat pants legs down again. Then she looked around for her shoes. She spotted them near the hall to the kitchen and stepped around Jack to put them on.

"Sam, you don't--"

"I do." She refused to look at Jack, concentrating on tying her shoes tightly. She should never have worn fishnets.

There were the usual goodbyes and a few jokes, and then she and Daniel collapsed in the backseat of the car as Teal'c drove. When they were nearly to her house, Daniel suddenly shifted. "When did you start wearing those?"

"A while ago."

He appeared to be studying the shifting movement outside the car with careful attention to the details of a night blurring by. "Ah."

They lapsed into silence again until she was getting out of the car and then she stopped and leaned in. "Daniel--" But she stopped. She didn't know *what* to say. "Good night."

"Sam?"

"Hrm?"

Daniel looked at her for a moment, then sighed. "Never mind."

"Good night, Daniel."

"Night, Sam."

"Sleep well, Teal'c."

"Enjoy your dreams, Major Carter."

She could have sworn there was a smirk on the jaffa's face. And Daniel certainly seemed to be fighting a grin. But he also closed the door, leaving her standing in the cool night air. She stood there and watched them drive off, feeling the textures on her legs. Fishnet and worn sweats, and the breeze.

The ghostly memory of Jack's fingers danced up her calves and she shivered again; for an entirely different reason.

Maybe she would enjoy her dreams.

-f-

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© 2005 ALC Punk!