Chapter Two: Not The First Time

A/N: We're going to meet a character from Season 7 a little early (character reference from Evolution Pt. 1 & 2)

Enjoy!

"Sir." Sam plopped the steaming coffee cup down in front of her colonel as he lounged in his chair, looking out at the busy street full of DC traffic from where they sat on the little café patio. Moving behind him, she sat in the chair he had pulled out for her. Both seats were against the café's concrete wall, leaving a free line of sight in all directions from where they sat.

It was a habit, even when they were pretty sure nothing hinky was going down. But it was a habit that had saved their asses on plenty of occasions.

Settling in the chair, her elbow brushed his as she reached into the bag to sort out their sandwiches. If they had to sit just a tad too close in order to keep their backs against the wall and their flanks protected, well, so be it. Jack smiled lazily at her and though his eyes were hidden behind sunglasses, Sam didn't need to see the expression in them to know they mirrored hers.

"Well, thank you, ma'am." He drawled, stretching his arms up to loosen the muscles that had felt cramped since the flight as he removed his glasses. He had taken off his jacket when he'd sat down, but the cooler fall temperatures kept him from feeling suffocated in his button down and tie. He watched out of the corner of his eye as Sam removed her jacket as well, her eyes intent on the cup of coffee that was evidently her next target.

A quick movement out of the corner of his other eye had him turning fully and half-standing, ready to defend himself and his major. His abrupt movement must have caught his second's eye as she was suddenly on her feet too, coffee forgotten, and the sudden pressure at the small of his back told him her hand was on his weapon just in case, ready to neutralize whatever enemy he had spotted.

The reality, though, was almost worse.

"Colonel Jonathan J. O'Neill, how the heck are ya?" The pressure on the small of his back was still there, Sam was waiting for him to say or do something to let her know which way this was going to play out.

Jack sent a quick glance her way, a silent apology for whatever was about happen. Dropping her hand, Sam did a cursory onceover of the shorter man standing in front of the colonel with his arms spread wide. "Agent Burke." The colonel's voice was even, but there was an undercurrent of tension that Sam usually only heard when he was talking to a politician. Glancing from her colonel to Burke, Sam shuffled briefly through her mental rolodex – she didn't remember an 'Agent Burke' popping up recently.

"Man, Jack, what's it been – ten, fifteen years?" Burke's face was split into a wide smile, but there was something behind his eyes that set Sam's teeth on edge. So, they went back pre-SGC. Sam went back a little further, trying to remember him from the colonel's personnel file that she definitely did not hack into prior to joining SG-1. Burke, Burke…was there something about him in the Black Ops era of Jack's file? Yes, that sounded familiar, actually -,

"Something like that." Jack bobbled his head in what appeared to be casual consideration of the time that had passed between them. Sam knew better – instead, he was trying to gauge what the best responses were going to be to get this over with faster.

Burke turned his attention to Sam, looking her up and down as his smile – impossibly – grew wider. "Man, Jack, I don't know how you do it. What is it that you ladies see in this guy?"

Sam's eyebrows shot nearly to her hairline. "Excuse me?" She and the colonel spoke at the same time, their eyes meeting briefly before they turned back to Burke.

"Well, aren't you going to introduce me to Mrs. O'Neill? Or, rather, Major O'Neill?" He amended, glancing at the epaulets on Sam's jacket.

Momentarily caught off guard that someone had, for once, corrected themselves when addressing her by rank, Sam did not immediately register exactly what Burke was implying. "Mrs…?" Jack's trailing question hung in the air as Sam's eyes snapped to Burke's then at the back of her colonel's head, before landing somewhere near his right elbow.

"Yeah." Burke drew out the word questioningly, giving him an odd look. "I heard the girl inside talking to the Mrs. over here," he jerked his thumb, indicating Sam, and she could have just fallen through the floor right then and there.

The one time she didn't correct someone. Of course.

She met the colonel's eyes sheepishly as he turned his head in her direction, his eyebrows raised, but his face otherwise expressionless. She couldn't help the guilty smile that had started to spread across her lips – how was she supposed to explain this one?

"Yes, well." Jack narrowed his eyes slightly at his major before turning back to Burke. "Major, meet Agent Burke. We go a ways back."

Surprise lit through Sam, he hadn't corrected Burke or questioned her. She'd be relieved if she couldn't already hear him taunting her later, "You owe me so big, Carter. Mrs. O'Neill? Oh man, you'll be writing my mission reports for a month."

Smiling despite the sense of her impending doom, Sam nodded at Burke, "You can just call me Sam."

Burke nodded appreciatively. "Beautiful name for a beautiful woman."

"Burke." Jack warned.

"Sorry." He briefly threw his hands into the air as a surrender before fixing his eyes back on Jack. His smile had dropped and for the first time Sam saw a genuine expression take hold of the agent's face. "I'm glad you're doing okay, Jack. When I heard about -," He broke off, glancing quickly at Sam before clearly changing course. "It's good to see you."

"Likewise." Jack bounced on his heels, his hands finding his pockets. "Do you…want to sit?" There was just enough hesitation there to let both Sam and Burke know that the invitation, while polite, was not wholly genuine.

Burke glanced down at the empty chair, fingers twitching just once. "I uh – thanks, Jack. I appreciate that. But I have a meeting…" the other man gestured vaguely over his shoulder. "Mission reporting from Honduras, you know the drill."

He reached out and shook Jack's hand, then Sam's. He held her gaze for a beat clearly deciding whether or not he should say whatever he was thinking. "It was nice to meet you, Sam."

"You too." The smallest frown creased Sam's brow as he pulled away. She had the strangest feeling that he had been about to thank her instead.

Looking between the two officers, Burke nodded once and turned. He'd gotten about two steps when he turned back abruptly, catching them as they started to sit back down. "You two look good together, ya know? Just, ah, well, don't screw it up, am I right, Jack?" Smiling sadly, he rubbed the back of his neck even as Jack nodded and Sam just looked a little confounded.

As Burke walked away for real this time, Sam shot a sidelong glance at her colonel before pushing her chair back so she could sit. "Divorce." Jack intoned, indicating the retreating man with his chin.

"Ah." Furtively, Sam glanced around at the tables dotting the patio, trying to check if there was anyone else there that they might know. The last thing they needed was the base – or worse, Kinsey and the NID - to catch wind of any part of that exchange. 'You two look good together…'

Glancing to her right, she had to admit that as misinformed as Burke was, they did look good together. She knew that – had known that, but it still felt weird to actually let the thought into her mind. Swallowing reflexively, Sam forced the thought back into its little compartmentalized box and blamed its continued existence on her lack of coffee and too much fresh air.

Crinkling paper brought Sam back to the real world, where she was not at all surprised to find herself the subject of intense scrutiny by the man sitting too close to her. He was unwrapping his sandwich, but his eyes were trained on her face, waiting for her to break first.

And Sam was proud to say that she refused to give in. So what happened next was entirely not her fault.

"Mrs. O'Neill?" The girl from counter inside had pushed the door open, her eyes searching the patio for the aforementioned woman. "Mrs. O'Neill!" She smiled brightly when her eyes landed on the blonde woman seated with the silver fox that had half her coworkers in a tizzy. They were used to seeing men and women in uniform, their little café was located directly across from the National Mall after all. But they definitely weren't used to officers who looked the way these two did.

To his credit, Jack didn't even flinch. To her credit, Sam just sort of froze.

The waitress' smile didn't falter as she approached the table – the woman had seemed similarly distracted at the counter. "Mrs. O'Neill, I'm so sorry. You asked for a turkey club, but the kitchen accidentally prepared a chicken club for you. Another customer got your sandwich which is how I realized." The waitress held out a plate with a fresh sandwich on it.

Sam knew the burning in her cheeks was definitely visible to anyone within a ten mile radius – seriously, Santa could hire her to guide his sleigh right about now. "Thank you." The words felt very thick in her throat and when she did not actually move to take the plate, Jack leaned forward to relieve the waitress of the sandwich.

"Yes, thank you." Jack gave his most charming smile, but was amused to see that the young woman only had eyes for Carter.

"Sure thing! Let me know if there's anything else I can get you two." She grinned again before disappearing inside.

Turning to his major, Jack was tickled to find that she was doing her best impression of a tomato – all pink cheeks and neck and blue eyes skittering everywhere but where they would meet his own. "You know, major, I counted no less than four 'Mrs. O'Neill's' in the last two minutes."

Sam couldn't help it – she giggled. Actually, 'giggling' was too cute. The noises that escaped her were decidedly not cute and could be classified closer to a snigger. "I'm so sorry, colonel. I definitely did not think that would happen."

Jack, half-surprised she had said anything to acknowledge the situation at all, leaned forward to catch her skittering glance. "What did you think would happen?"

"Nothing!" The word burst forth between sniggers. "I swear, colonel, it happens so often that I didn't think anything of it. I didn't bother correcting her because I didn't think there was anyone around who would care. It's just you and me here and you were already outside." Sam shrugged one shoulder as her nervous laughter subsided, but she found she still couldn't hold his gaze for more than two consecutive seconds.

Jack's brain was trying to catch up with what his major was saying. He'd been expecting something along the lines of, 'I don't know, sir. Probably they all just assumed because of misogyny' or something. "It happens so often…?" He let the question hang in the air, waiting for Carter to pick it up.

Sam turned embarrassed eyes on the colonel, finally. "Well, yes, sir."

Hm. "Hm." Jack cocked his head. "And if I weren't outside, you would have corrected her?"

"Well, wouldn't you have? Sir." She added belatedly.

Faced with that semi-accusatory question, Jack wasn't actually sure. He sometimes got the impression that people thought he and Carter were a couple, especially when they were hanging out in civvies, but no one had ever actually confronted him about it. Jack was suddenly really curious as to how often Sam had to correct people. What he wasn't curious about, however, was the tickle of interest he felt when he wondered if his major enjoyed correcting them or not.

"I…don't know." Jack answered honestly.

That got Sam's attention. "You don't know."

Jack's eyes rose to meet hers, his expression just as baffled. "I don't know." He confirmed.

"I see." But she really didn't. Feeling like the conversation had reached a point where he probably wasn't going to yell at her for her gross misrepresentation of their relationship, Sam reached for her plate and took a bite from her sandwich. 'Oh, it's actually really good.' Sam mused as she chewed, watching the colonel clearly wrestling with something.

"We're adults." He muttered, not really talking to anyone in particular. Sam frowned and slowed in her chewing, but didn't interrupt in case he kept going. "It's not a big deal. And people are going to think whatever they want to think. Can't help that."

Sam fought a smile. She had been so nervous only a moment ago, but it looked like her colonel was running through the same mental gymnastics that Sam did every time someone addressed her by his name.

"Sir?" Taking a sip of her rapidly cooling coffee, Sam pressed her luck.

"Hm?" He answered distractedly as he took a bite from his sandwich.

Sam looked from his sandwich to his mouth and almost laughed. He had a smear of mayo and some straggles of lettuce sprinkled across his freshly shaved cheek. Lifting her napkin she made to move towards him before thinking better of it. "May I?" She indicated the napkin and then looked pointedly at the lower half of his face.

Jack nodded mutely, his eyes not straying from hers as she leaned forward and wiped away whatever he had gotten on his face. "Thanks." He muttered around his half mouthful.

Sam grinned, checking his cheek one last time before turning back to her own lunch. They ate in silence for awhile, both officers finishing their food and settling back in their chairs to enjoy their coffees. After several minutes of people-watching had passed, Jack's voice broke through Sam's reverie.

"Though I guess I can see why people would assume."

Sam felt the grin tug at the corners of her mouth, but she kept her eyes forward. "You can."

She felt more than saw his narrow at her. "You can't?"

"I didn't say that." Sam turned her head, resting her cheek on her wrist as she finally regarded the colonel. They were quiet for a moment, each officer watching the other openly, but carefully. When Sam spoke next her voice was quiet. "I can see where people would assume."

Whatever clever thing Jack was sure he wanted to say died in his throat. He and Carter never talked about this thing between them and if he was able to pick a time a place, he wasn't sure that "right before an award ceremony" and "sitting outside at a picturesque café in the cool autumn air far away from everyone back on base" would be it.

Wait, scratch that. That's exactly what he would pick.

"Sir?"

Something of what he had been thinking must have showed on his face as the smallest uncertainty had crept into her voice and a flush was yet again creeping up her neck. "We should go." His voice was calm, belying the very turbulent emotions that had started to stir beneath the surface.

Sam looked like she wanted to say something, but nodded instead.

"Yes, sir."

TBC