Spoilers: None, set in late season 1.
A/N1: Written for 100prompts, table 1/prompt 16: strawberries, and genprompt_bingo, prompt: hurricane/typhoon. Second of Janet’s Secrets.
A/N2: Special thanks to my wonderful beta jazwriter! All mistakes are my own.

It’s the middle of the night and someone’s dog, I don’t know whose, won’t stop barking! I’m ready to just shoot the fucking thing! Thank god I didn’t let O’Neill talk me into keeping that mutt he got for Cassie. I wanted to shoot him when he told her it was a rule that all kids had to have one. Colonel “Fuzzbutt” O’Neill’s reprieve (damn, that man has a hairy ass!) was only granted when he agreed to keep Fuzzbutt, the dog, at his house.

Anyway, it’s the middle of the night, and I can’t sleep. I can’t sleep because Sam is supposed to be here, but she’s not. She was supposed to come over this evening and have dinner with me, just the two of us. Cassie’s on a sleepover at Jennie’s.

For months now we’ve been flirting with each other. I don’t mean the lighthearted, playful, joking around flirting. Sam and I have been really flirting. Flirting with smoldering looks. God, that woman can skillfully undress me with her eyes one minute, then the next minute explain how black holes power the space-time continuum (or something else entirely as confusing). Meanwhile I’m struggling to speak with a mouth as dry as the Sahara Desert since every bit of moisture in my body is suddenly between my legs. She knows she has this effect on me. She gives me that look. That look that says: I know you’re turned on, but it’s the middle of the day and we’re at work, and besides, we haven’t even kissed, yet.

So… Sam was supposed to come over for dinner tonight. And then I was going to seduce her. Enough of the flirting and games, as fun as they are. She can make me wet with one wicked look, and it’s time for some follow-through. I even bought Sam’s favorite—strawberries and whipped cream, so dessert can be playful and sexy. And lead to sex! Dammit, I’m getting wet just thinking about it.

So help me, if O’Neill is responsible for the team being late coming back from P5X-whatever, his fuzzbutt is going to meet one of my biggest needles.

Janet put down her pen and reached for her ringing cellphone. “Fraiser.”

“Janet? It’s me.”

“Sam! When did you get back?”

“About forty minutes ago. The hurricane that kept us from getting to the gate finally blew itself out. Warner’s finished our post-mission checks, and the general said we’d debrief on Monday. I just wanted to let you know we’re back, safe and sound. I’ll come by tomorrow afternoon to see you, if you want.”

“No.”

“Oh… okay—”

“Come here now.”

“It’s the middle of the night, Janet.”

“Sam?”

“What?”

“I have strawberries and whipped cream. Get your ass over here now.”

“I’m on my way.”

Janet smiled as she put her diary away and went downstairs to prepare the strawberries and whipped cream. She had a feeling Sam would be the sweetest midnight snack she’d ever tasted.

FIN