Title: The Good Stuff
Author: tkeefer6@comcast.net
Status: complete
Category: Romance
Spoilers: nothing specific
Rating: G
Archive: Heliopolis, all others ask.
Content Warnings: none
Summary: Future fic. Based on the Kenny Chesney song "The Good Stuff". Sam and Jack have their first real fight after getting married.
Disclaimer: Stargate Sg-1 and its characters are the property of Stargate (II) Productions, Showtime/Viacom, MGM/UA, Double Secret Productions, and Gekko Productions. No copyright infringement is intended. The original characters, situations, and story are the property of the author. This story may not be posted elsewhere without the consent of the author

"God damn it, Sam!" Jack screamed. He'd just returned from General Hammond's office where he'd been informed that Lt. Colonel Samantha O'Neill's team would be joining SG-1 in the assault on Anubis's research complex.

"I'm going on this mission, sir" she said in an angry clipped voice placing special emphasis on the last word. "We agreed..."

"I know what we agreed," Jack growled before she could complete the thought. "This is..." he said breaking off the thought with a snarl before stalking out of her lab. He stomped down the corridor deep inside Cheyenne mountain barely noticing the way people he was forcing to jump out of the way. He slapped his palm on the call button for the elevator. Personnel walking down the corridor gave him a wide berth as he paced in front of it waiting for the car to arrive.

Fifteen minutes later he'd cleared the last security checkpoint inside the mountain itself and reached his car. He quickly unlocked the door and climbed in. Once through the security gate he roared down the road towards town. It didn't take him long to find what he was looking for in the form of the neon lights of a small corner bar. Jack pulled into the parking lot and headed for the entrance.

When he stepped inside he noticed the only one inside was an older man behind the bar wearing a brightly colored t-shirt that read 'I'm a Grandpa.' Jack sat down at the bar and waited as the bartender slowly ambled over and asked, "What'll it be?"

"The good stuff," Jack answered.

The man's faded blue eyes took Jack's measure in one look. "You can't find that here," he replied.

"Then where will I find it?" Jack returned sarcastically not prepared for the reply.

The silver haired bartender's smile was filled with remembered happiness as he said, "It's the first long kiss on a second date. Her momma all worried when you get home late. It's droppin' the ring in the spaghetti plate cause you're so nervous your hand shakes." He grabbed a carton of milk from the refrigerator behind the bar and poured himself a glass.

Jack gestured to the carton and said, "I'll have some of that."

The bartender placed a second glass on the bar and filled it before returning the carton to it's place. "Name's Dave," he said.

"Jack," he responded. "So what else is the good stuff?"

Dave pulled a stool over and sat behind the bar opposite Jack. "It's the way the rice looked in her hair," he said. "Eating burnt dinners that first year."

"Asking for seconds so you don't hurt her feelings," Jack added remembering Sara's attempts at cooking that first year of their marriage. Over Dave's shoulder he noticed a picture wedged into the frame of the large mirror behind the bar. Jack cocked his head to get a better look at the black and white photo of a young woman with bouffant hair.

Dave turned to see what his customer was looking at so intently. "My wife, Bonnie," he told Jack as he pulled the picture from it's place in the frame and handed it to him. "That was taken about a year after we were married."

"She's a beautiful woman," Jack complimented.

"She was," the old bartender agreed as an expression of grief crossed his face deepening the weathered lines of his face. "Cancer took her about eight years ago."

"I'm sorry," Jack said. "I can see how much you loved her."

"Spent five years in the bottom of the bottle when she died," he admitted.

"Losing a loved one isn't easy," Jack commiserated.

"Who'd you lose?" Dave asked.

"My son," Jack told the bartender. "More friends than I care to think about."

"You work up at the mountain?" Dave asked gesturing to the uniform Jack still wore.

"Yeah," he confirmed. "What got you out of the bottle?"

"Remembering the good stuff," Dave replied. "Watching her holding our baby girl. The way she adored the string of pearls I gave her the day our youngest boy, Earl, got married." The older man patted the shirt covering his still washboard flat stomach as he added, "Being a grandpa."

Jack lost track of time as he sat at the bar conversing with the older bartender until the door opened and a couple of regular patrons entered. Dave got up and greeted them as they chose seats at the opposite end of the bar, but once he'd gotten their drinks he returned to his conversation with Jack.

"I sat by her bed holding her hand," he told the Air Force colonel. "I was with her at the end."

Jack lowered his head then to stare into his drink. "That's what I'm afraid of," he admitted. "Watching her die."

"Life's uncertain," the bartender told him. "You should know that better than most, Jack. Because of your son."

Jack nodded. "I've screwed up big time," he told his new friend.

"When you get home she'll start to cry," Dave predicted. "When she says she's sorry, say so am I."

"I don't think it's going to be that simple," Jack argued.

"It might be," Dave retorted. "Go home."

Jack nodded. He stood up, pulled a few bills from his wallet and laid them on the bar. "Thanks for listening, Dave" he told the older man as he held out his hand.

"Any time," Dave replied as he shook Jack's extended hand. "Good luck."

Jack debated where to go after getting behind the wheel of his truck. Finally he turned the ignition and pulled out in the direction he'd come from hoping Sam would still be in her lab hiding from the world in her experiments. When he finally got there sometime later he sighed upon seeing that he'd guessed right. He knocked on the doorframe and watched her turn in his direction.

Jack saw her eyes widen to see him standing there. He shut the door behind him quietly before crossing the room to stand in front of her.

"I'm sorry," she murmured to the buttons on his shirt refusing to lift her face to look at him.

"So am I," Jack replied taking the advice he'd been given. She looked up then, and he looked into her eyes drinking up the love he saw there. "I'm just afraid of losing you."

"It scares me too, Jack, but..." Sam told him only to be cut off as he placed a finger over her lips.

"But you're an officer in the United States Air Force, and you'll do your duty just like you always do," Jack finished for her. "And I love you for it even though it scares me."

"So we're okay?" she asked.

"We're okay," Jack confirmed. "Let's go home."