Set...uh...sometime? Shep's a colonel.
The reception is in full swing up in the observation room as Sam leads Jack out of the elevator and he drags her in for a kiss.
She's not remotely drunk, but she's just buzzed enough to let him slide his hands over her hips as he trails behind her down the corridor. It's been weeks since they've gotten any real alone time, and she's not really interested in talking to anyone right now anyway.
Sam's usually a professional, disciplined woman. She's not stupid; she knows the entire Cheyenne Mountain complex is under constant surveillance, especially on nights they have a cocktail party full of diplomats and politicians upstairs. But then he'd whispered to her that the security cameras in the guestroom corridor are being replaced, so they're offline at the moment, and, well. It's not her best idea, but she's still blaming it on the champagne.
They managed to keep a respectable distance from each in the elevator, but now that they're away from prying eyes, Jack's getting handsy. He's utterly single-minded when he wants to be, and she's counting the seconds until she can pin him to a bed and do some quality debriefing.
She swipes her ID to unlock the nearest door, her hands faltering as Jack worries her earlobe with his teeth, and oh it's a good thing they've got a room for -
"Oh. Oh."
Jack stumbles as he almost falls over her, and he lets out a loud cough as the two of them stare in shock.
Jack lets out a huh. "Well. Hello, Dr. Weir. Colonel Sheppard."
In spite of the abundant awkwardness, Sam can feel a laugh bubbling up in her chest as John scrambles off of Elizabeth. She's never seen two faces go the exact same shade of red before.
Elizabeth gasps. "Oh my God -"
"Uh. General." John struggles to simultaneously zip up his pants and avoid meeting anyone's eyes. "Sir. Ma'am."
Elizabeth is hurriedly tugging down her skirt to cover her thighs, while John tries to re-button his shirt without anyone noticing. Sam has to give him credit, though; he's still trying to shield Elizabeth with his body, as though he can spare her the mortification somehow.
"No, no, please. At ease." Jack, at least, seems to have recovered from any possible embarrassment. "So you're enjoying the party?"
"Yes, sir." John looks like he wants to die.
"You going to tuck your shirt in there, Colonel?"
"Um." Sheppard looks down at himself, his face into the realm of 'scarlet' at this point. "I'd...rather not, sir."
Sam still wants to laugh at the cosmic absurdity, but she can't help feeling some pity. "Relax, Colonel." Even the tips of his ears are burning at this point, and Elizabeth looks just as bad. "Sorry about -" not realizing you were trying to bang? - "uh - this," she finishes lamely.
"It's not your fault," Elizabeth sighs, tucking an errant curl behind her ear, clearly trying to bring herself to be the adult.
"Ya know," Jack drawls, amused, "you could try the old sock-on-the-doorknob. Would've been clearer."
John and Elizabeth both go redder, if that's even possible, and Sam elbows Jack not-so-discreetly in the side. Would you stop giving them shit?
It's not like she and Jack came here for some noble, important, non-sexual reason, after all.
Elizabeth has somewhat gotten control of herself; her face is still flushed, but she's managed to smooth her hair into something approximating non-sex hair. "Is there - something you needed? Colonel Sheppard and I -" her voice falters "- we were just -"
"Talking?" Sam finishes for her.
Elizabeth starts, but when her eyes meet Sam's, Sam smiles.
I get it, Weir. It's okay.
The subtext seems to get through, because Elizabeth nods slowly. "Thank you."
Jack clears his throat. "So you guys heard about the security cameras too?"
Elizabeth's eyebrows go up. Shit.
"Jack -" Sam hisses, but he shrugs.
"What, like they don't know why we're here?" Jack slips his arm around her waist, tugging her back through the doorway. "You have fun, kids. Be safe. Make good choices."
"Ah. Thank you, sir."
Jack pulls her with him, but Sam catches a glimpse just before the door closes. Elizabeth has her hand on John's cheek, tracing the line of his jaw, and she's saying something. It's inaudible, but whatever it is, John's smiling, wry and genuine, and it's such a sudden, sharp moment of real affection that it makes Sam catch her breath.
The door shuts, and Jack shoots her a grin. "Come on."
"What?"
"I don't think anyone's going to check the supply closets."