Hello! I'm back! Look for all my pending work to be finished or near-finished this summer. This is a little plotbunny that came to me after too much coffee. Hope I translated it well enough from my scribblings. The italics represent Jack's thoughts. This is part one of a two-parter. Look for the next chapter in a day or two.

Indiscretion

Floor, ceiling, floor, ceiling, floor.

Jack frowned and raised his arm again.

Floor, ceiling, floor, ceiling, floor, wall. That's it?

His brows furrowed.

"Sir?"

He glanced up to see Carter standing in front of him, holding out his glow in the dark bouncy ball.

"Thanks," Jack replied, taking the ball from her hand. He paused slightly as his fingers brushed her palm.

"Trying for a new record?" she asked, a smile hinting on her face.

Jack grunted, slipping past her to walk down the hall.

"Sir, you haven't said more than two words to me since I told you," Carter said, reaching out to grab his arm. She stopped just before he turned to face her.

"What's to say?" Jack mentally patted himself on the back. His voice was a lot calmer than he felt.

"You could say you're happy for me."

Don't look in her eyes, Jack. That's her secret move. Forehead. Stare at her forehead.

"Looking at my forehead isn't going to help, sir."

Dammit.

"I could say I'm happy for you," Jack repeated.

He could say a lot of things. He could say he thought that her leaving Pete would be a changing point for them. He could say that when he had punched a hole through his kitchen wall when she cancelled plans to grab a drink because she had a standing engagement.

"Yeah, I could say that," Jack said, staring at her.

She bit her lip.

Good, she feels guilty. Now, go for the throat!

"Carter, you-"

"Jack, you are a Class-A asshole."

Jack's eyebrows scaled his forehead in surprise. He glanced around the corridor. There was no one around. Good. He didn't have to court-marshal her.

"Carter, you're going to talk like that to a superior officer?"

She tightened her jaw and Jack saw he was talking to Sam, not Carter.

Shit.

"Don't you dare bring up rank when we're talking about this. You really think I'd wait for you forever?"

She shoved past him to get out of the hallway.

"Carter, I..." he shook his head. "Sam. I want to talk."

She stopped. "Then talk."

"Here?"

She turned, her eyes blazing. "I'm sick of being discrete."

Jack's eyes followed her as she stormed off. His inner five-year-old was tempted to throw the ball at her and stick his tongue out.

But his adult side...

Nope, still want violence. Tom or Bob or whatever the hell his name is. I'll tear his throat out. Mr. Much More Her Age couldn't possibly be militarily trained, could he?

As the airman passed by, he saluted the General, who absently saluted back. The airman walked a little straighter. With that facial expression, the General was no doubt planning a major attack against the Ori. Shimmering with pride, the airman rounded the corner.

And then I'll sit on him.

Slowly, Jack began to walk down the hallway, retracing Sam's steps.

'You could say you're happy for me.' Jeez, Sam. Kick a man while he's down. Do you love him?

Outwardly, he showed no sign of anger, but the tremor of his clinched jaw gave him away as his knee twinged.

Couldn't take him. Damn knee, he'd probably have me on the ground in ten seconds.

Jack paused.

I'd still sit on him though.

How many times had he hugged her in ten years? Three times? Four?

'I'm sick of being discrete.'

Jack's feet began to pick up their pace.

She wanted indiscretion. He'd give her indiscretion.