PART 9

Saturday:

Jack eyed the meager selection of clothes in his wardrobe apprehensively. The place wasn't fancy, but jeans were too scruffy. His Class A's? No. Even he knew that the last thing someone wore voluntarily was a dress uniform. He sighed heavily and yanked out a pair of black slacks with a butter-soft black cashmere sweater he'd had since God was a boy.

He changed rapidly into the comfortable clothes then regarded himself soberly in the mirror. God, he was looking old; when the hell had that happened?

"Dad; it's past six thirty," his son called from the living room.

"Ah … right," Jack called back then cleared his throat. "Thanks," he said rather more clearly. He stuffed his feet into his only dress shoes, then raked a comb through his hair, trying to give it some order. No chance. The cowlick at the back firmly refused to flatten, and Jack sighed. "Charlie!"

"Yeah?"

"Ah … you got any" – he cringed – "hair gel?"

"What?"

The young man appeared in Jack's bedroom. "Dad; you haven't been out on a date since … like, the Clinton administration. I think your hair's the last thing you should be worrying about."

"Thanks, kid." Like he wasn't nervous enough about how the evening would go!

Charlie sighed. "Look; she's known you a few months now, and she hasn't run away screaming. Just … be yourself." Then he grinned. "But not too much, huh?"

Jack scowled. "I had the chance to give you up for adoption, ya know."

"Too late." Charlie grinned again. "But you know what I mean. Sometimes you're just Jack O'Neill. But other times, you act like an Air Force General with a big ol' stick up his butt."

"I am an Air Force General with a big ol' stick up my butt," Jack shot back, "but I'll do my best." He gave up the losing battle with his hair. Charlie was right – his hair was the last thing he should be worrying about.


Amazingly, Sam found herself nervous. She'd never been shy around men and her last date had only been a couple months ago – with Daniel Jackson. He was cute with a boyish charm and they'd had a really good time. But there was no spark there, and they'd found themselves becoming fast friends.

Not that she wasn't friends with Jack. She was. In fact, she counted the sometimes hard-nosed military man as one of the best friends she'd ever had. He was gruff and tactless, yet was quite shy and hesitant when it came to personal things. She'd had to tone down her usually flirtatious nature, especially during the first few weeks of their acquaintance, as he'd been so uneasy around her.

But she hadn't been able to resist giving him that gentle, not quite chaste, kiss at Allie's party. He really was adorable. She'd been surprised that he hadn't found some excuse to wriggle out of tonight then put it down to his military upbringing – never back down.

However, she just hoped that he could tone down his adorable qualities tonight, or she just might push onto the nearest flat surface and ravish him. And that, she knew, would kill any faint hope she had of building a stronger relationship with him.

She eyed her reflection, pleased with the way the soft dove-gray fabric of her dress skimmed her curves, the skirt flaring at her hips to float around her slim calves. Her height was further accentuated by the three-inch heels – she loved that he would still be taller than her – and her hair had been teased into soft curls.

The doorbell chimed and she headed to the door, pausing to swing a light wrap over the pale expanse of her shoulders, accentuated by the spaghetti straps of her dress. She opened the door and saw Jack standing stiffly there, dressed all in black (yowser), his slacks creased to military perfection and shoes shining glossily. He held a bunch of carnations (how did he know they were her favorite flower?) tightly and his other arm worked in small motions as if antsy.

"Ah … hey," he said. "You look … beautiful."

"Thanks," she replied. "So do you."

He tilted an eyebrow, a la Teal'c, and gave an amused smirk.

"You know what I mean!" Sam giggled then stretched her hand out. "I take it those are for me?"

And another smirk came from the man. "No; they're for the maitre d'."

"Smart ass." Sam giggled again, the almost palpable tension now dissolved.

He handed her the carnations, and she turned to put them into a vase. "They're lovely," she told him. "You have good taste."

"Well, I'm taking you out tonight, aren't I?" he replied then cringed. "Christ. That was really cheesy, wasn't it?"

Sam took pity on him. "It was, but I'll let you off just this once."

"Sorry, Sam," he said, leading her to his truck. "It's been a … long time since I've been on a date, and I was always crap with them."

"Just so you know, Jack," Sam said, settling into the passenger seat, "I really like you. You don't need to break out Emily Post or anything."

"Good to know." He started the car, and they reversed out onto the street. "Ah … mind if I put on some music?"

"That's fine," Sam said, wishing he could get over his nerves. He was trying to hide it, but she could see it in the way his hands clenched around the wheel, and the muscle jerking along his jaw.

They got into the main street and the tension between them grew until the air was thick with it, and Sam was ready to scream. "That's it," she declared suddenly. "Pull over."

"Huh?" He did as he was told nevertheless.

"Jack; this isn't going to work unless you relax," Sam told him. "I don't know what you're expecting to go wrong, but …"

She unclipped her seatbelt, then slid over to him, took his face in her hands and kissed him softly. His mouth remained unresponsive against her, and she pressed the kiss until she felt his lips open and a sigh whisper over her own lips. She kept the kiss sweet, no tongue, just a gentle warm pressure then his hand slid onto her cheek caressingly as his tongue whisked across her lips and into her mouth.

Mmmm, he was a great kisser. She'd suspected that the tightly-buttoned military man had a deep well of sensuality just waiting to be explored. She stroked his tongue with her own, giving just as good as she got, and they battled hotly until the need for oxygen took precedence.

She sat back, managing to resist the urge to fan herself like some Victorian maiden. "Whoa!" she got out. Huh, where are all the poly-syllables now, Doctor Carter?

"Yeah," Jack replied huskily. He put the truck back into drive and they headed back out. He looked over at her as she clipped the seatbelt back into place. "You okay?" he asked. "I … ah … didn't mean to come on so strong."

Aww, he's so sweet.

"If I recall correctly, I was the one who initiated the kiss," Sam pointed out.

"So; you were okay with …?" His free hand fluttered in a circle.

"Hell, yeah." Sam felt her lips curve into a smirk. "Trust me on this, General; a guy who can make me feel what you made me feel with just a kiss will definitely get a second date!"

"Ah." And there was the endearing blush. "Well … cool, then."

"Very."


Jack breathed in deeply, remembering the warm sweetness of Sam's lips, the hot passion as her tongue did battle with his. And a certain body part made itself known. He shifted slightly, unable to recall the last time he'd gotten a hard-on from just a kiss.

Although … what a kiss!

It seemed that Sam's passion for life was similar to what his had once been, and he regretted that he was no longer that man.

A pale slim hand landed on his thigh and squeezed. "God, Jack; quit worrying, will you?" Sam said softly. "If I hadn't been okay with the kiss, you would've known it."

"Ah …". Jack coughed.

The hand remained on his thigh. "I knew you had a lot of passion," Sam went on, seemingly oblivious to the fact that Jack was hardening very near her hand. "Don't feel like you have to rein yourself in on my account."

The witch. Jack slid a hand under the strap of her dress and brushed softly at the tip of her breast. It hardened instantly, she sucked in a startled breath and Jack smirked. "So noted, Doc," he told her.

Sam giggled. "God, I think I've let loose a monster."