Disclaimer: Not mine. I still cry about it. I don't own 'Buffy the Vampire Slayer' either.
Summary: A short epilogue/sequel to 'traditions and 'champagne'.
A/note: proof that I'm a slave to my readers. This is for the readers, for the reviewers, and for those that asked for more. Can I say no to you guys? Apparently not! Yes they're still drunk. I reckon they would be funny drunks. If you get a giggle out of any part of this, my job is done. Enjoy!

~ Epilogue ~

"No Sir!" Carter dazzled him with a drunken grin.

Forgetting the laws of momentum, Jack barrelled into his Major. Was it too much to expect her to dodge him? Their impact on the hard bitumen seemed to suggest so. In a frantic display of wayward arms and unstable legs, Jack slammed head-on into Sam, forcing all the air from her heaving chest with an audible 'oof!'

They fell to the road, the sound of his glass bottle bouncing on the ground left unheard to the Air Force officers. Jack landed on his 2IC, virtually rebounding off her firm body and onto the ground next to her. Sam coughed and groaned at his side, completely ignorant to his leg and arm lying across her torso.

"That was dumb," Jack grunted, trying to roll onto his back.

"I think so Sir," Sam agreed with a cough.

"Beer Bad..." Jack concluded, pressing his hand to developing bump on his head. Sam found sufficient energy and coordination to get back on her feet. Ah Carter, such a trooper, even in the face of intoxication.

"You stole that from 'Buffy'," She huffed as she leant on her knees, looking down at her prone Colonel.

"Who's Buffy?" A pair of clammy, yet highly dextrous hands grabbed the front of his shirt. "Whoa!" Jack yelped as Sam lifted him to his feet with surprising strength. Note to self: get Sam drunk prior to fist-fights.

"Let's go home Sir," Sam looked down the street, still grasping his shirt. Jack lamely pushed them away, because unless she intended to remove said shirt, he didn't want her to stand there holding onto him like that.

"Okay..." Jack nodded in complete concurrence. "Whose?"

Sam just stared blankly at him. God, even when her brain was malfunctioning, she was cute!

"I don't know," her eyes widened as if she'd had an epiphany. I had yet to cross Jack's mind that they didn't need to go to the same house. Oh well. They were shnockered.

"Well, whose house is closer?" Jack stumbled on his feet. Sam turned away and looked down the street. She did a complete 360 degree turn and looked at him, her head wobbling dizzily.

"Mine," she lifted a knowing finger, as if the little light bulb in her head had finally switched on.

"Think we'll make it?" Jack wondered aloud.

"We'll make it Sir! We're SG-1! We always make it!" She said proudly, puffing out her chest. Don't do that, Sam. My brain will short-circuit.

"Then lead the way." Jack opened his hand to her, gesturing down the road. She walked past him quickly, her arms swinging dramatically. Jack followed her (like that was hard to do) along the dark street. Half way down the road, Sam hooked his elbow and swung him around.

"I live this way..." She said with determination, dragging him in direction they'd just come from.

They continued towards Sam's house, talking and laughing and bumping into one another the entire way. Sometimes, Jack had to hold onto Sam to stop one of them from face-planting into the sidewalk. Yeah right. That was what Jack kept telling himself.

Now, Jack knew for a fact that it only took eight minutes to get from the pub to Carter's house. He knew this because both locations were on his daily running route. But since it took him and Sam almost an hour to get to her house, it either spoke very highly of his physique, or very poorly of their navigation skills. Sadly, Jack suspected the latter.

Jack leant against Sam's white front door as she tried –and failed – to direct her house key into the lock.

"You hold the key, I'll hold the door." Jack grasped the handle. It seemed to work, because the next thing Jack knew, he was lying across the threshold. Sam staggered to the left, looking down at him.

"Hey, I've got to invite you in first." Sam frowned and bit her lip.

"Okay Carter. Come on in." Jack beckoned her into the house with a floppy hand.

"That's better." Sam nodded, before she stepped over Jack and grabbed his arm to pull his body all the way through the door. She was a strong little lady! Jack lay half in the living room, half in the foyer.

"Don't go anywhere." Sam pointed a finger at him... well, at a spot about a metre to his right, but he got the message. Sam turned around and left him on the carpeted floor. As if he would go anywhere. Now really, Sam!

Jack was ready to fall asleep when a pillow landed on his face. Gasping in surprise, Jack was overpowered by the smell of Sam's hair. This must have been her pillow currently try to smother him. And oh what a death it would have been. Jack pulled the fluffy lavender pillow off of his face and was greeted with the unusual sight of his Major waddling towards him with thick white blanket over her head.

"Move over." She ordered him. Jack looked to his left, then to his right. Did she need more than four feet of carpet? Nevertheless, he scooted towards the couch and tucked the pillow under his head. It seemed that Carter wanted to sleep with him (hallelujah!) on the floor of her living room. Eh, alcohol excused many things. And many regrets. As long as they slept through the night, they would have nothing to regret.

Sam practically fell on top of him, covering them both with her blanket. Jack stretched out an arm and pointed to his shoulder with the other hand.

"Pillow here," He yawned.

"Why thank you Sir." Sam chirped sleepily, flopping her head onto his bicep. Within two minutes, they were dead to the world. Neither moved a muscle during the rest of the morning and where woken by the bright sunlight streaming through Sam's living room window and the burn of cold toes.

Jack was the first to wake, the beginnings of a headache making his return to reality all the more uncomfortable. Not to mention his Major's ice cold nose trying to warm itself behind his ear. And her snoring. Let's not forget Sam's snoring.

Jack toyed with the idea of waking her, but would rather avoid her grumpiness. Besides, why ruin such a wonderful beginning to the New Year?

~ SJ ~

There, now it's really finished. Reviews? Oh yes. Please.