That Old Vegas Cliché

Spoilers- Nothing specific
Disclaimer- None of the characters in this fic belong to me, you all know who owns 'em.
Note- You gotta love a cliché, especially one set in Las Vegas.
xxx

Oh god.

Did anyone get the number of that truck that ran him down, reversed and ran over him again?

Jack gingerly raised a hand to his throbbing head. Yep, it was still attached. Unfortunately.

He was never, ever, drinking again. This trip to Las Vegas had seemed like a good idea at the time. They had downtime after a series of gut wrenching missions. Hammond had actually ordered all four SG-1 members off base for the entirety of their leave. Teal'c had been the one to suggest a group trip to Las Vegas. Apparently, T was a fan of some show that was set here.

Jack forced an eye open, wincing as pain stabbed its way to his brain. He knew the tequila was a bad idea. At least he managed to make it back to his hotel room. He sure as hell hoped Danny, T and Carter managed to make it back to theirs. The last thing he wanted was to explain why he had to bail out a member of his team from the local police station.

Jack struggled to sit up. He froze as his leg hit something. Was that another leg?

A slender leg?

A smooth, slender leg?

Ah, crap.

He got drunk and picked up some random woman. A large part of him winced; a small, but significant, part of him smirked. He might be getting old but he still had it. Plus, it could be worse, he could have gotten married.

Half dreading what he would find, Jack turned to look at the woman he was sharing his bed with.

Oh crap.

OH CRAP!

Okay, scratch what he said before. This was bad. This was very bad. In a smashing the regulations type of way.

Instead of the random woman in his bed Jack had expected- had hoped- was Samantha Carter. Sam Carter was in his bed.

Carter was in his bed.

And she was naked.

And so was he.

This was very, VERY, bad.

Jack slid out of the bed and gently drew a sheet over Sam's naked body to remove the temptation to look. He started to pace, limping slightly as his knee protested.

"What the hell are we going to do?" Jack mumbled.

He raised a hand to rub his temples. Jack froze. This wasn't just bad…

This was going to get him killed!

Jack stared down at his hand. Sunlight glittered innocently off the gold band on his left hand.

"Dammit!"

xxxxx

Sam jerked awake. There was someone in her room and they were swearing very loudly. In fact it sounded an awful lot like-

Sam sat up suddenly, forcing her eyes open despite the hangover that was making itself very well known. Sam stared at her CO in shock. She quickly looked him over before meeting his eyes.

"You're naked!"

Sam looked down. "Oh, shi-"

She scrambled to grab the fallen sheet as Jack located and pulled on his shorts.

"What happened?" She asked shakily.

Jack smirked sardonically. He gestured down at her left hand. "Apparently we didn't have enough clichés in our lives."

Sam looked dumbly down at her ring finger. "We got married and then we…"

"Oh yeah."

Sam sighed, resisting the urge to bury her head under a pillow and pretend this was a dream.

"We're so screwed."

"Big time," Jack agreed gloomily.

"I hate clichés."

xxx

The end.