Author's Note: Written for 'National Drink Beer Day' (28 September). AU.
Jack sits down heavily on the barstool and sighs.
Within the space of twenty-four hours his life has, once again, been turned upside down.
For one, he's narrowly avoided a court martial after General Hammond discovered he had knowingly lied in his mission report regarding what had really happened on Abydos; and while he is relieved that the new commander listened to him and agreed not to send another bomb through the gate, he isn't as pleased at having found himself recalled to active duty – again.
At this point, he's pretty sure it's just an alternative form of punishment because for an organization that was intent on sending him to his death, they now have a damn hard time letting him go.
He signals for the barman and satisfied that they've noticed him, he reaches for the small bowl of nuts and takes a cursory glance around.
"What can I get you, Sir?"
"Beer, please," he answers.
He knows he probably shouldn't be here, given the importance of the mission tomorrow, but he thinks he deserves a drink after the day he's had. And he knows it will only be one beer; he's doing better now and isn't the same person he was a year ago. He no longer drinks to try and forget what happened to his son or his marriage. Instead, he tries every day to find a reason to live again for Charlie and the fact that he is going back to work tells him that he is doing the right thing.
A part of Jack also can't shake the feeling that he is ultimately responsible for unleashing this new monster on Earth. It puts him in mind of the Hydra and he winces, wondering how just how many more monsters have been set free following the death of Ra, but he refuses to sit back and do nothing while others have to fight the war he started.
"Here you go, Sir."
He mutters his thanks to the retreating barman before he studies his drink. The beer doesn't seem as appealing as it did a few minutes earlier but he decides to stick around for a while longer before he heads home and gets ready for the second chance he has been given.
He's no longer the man Daniel knew and he wants the archaeologist and, with hindsight, the man he's come to view as a friend, to see him for who he is now. He wants to talk to him and make sure he really is okay too. The thought makes him smile as he wonders how Daniel's life has changed with Sha're. He remembers the people and the help they provided them; he remembers their courage to stand up against the Goa'uld and their desire to fight for their freedom; he remembers their hospitality and the the times they spent together; he remembers the food… his smile falters at this last memory and he instinctively reaches for the menu.
If he's going to go back there, he decides he is going to need a decent meal beforehand.
He glances down the options, already knowing what he's going to order, but he likes the excuse it gives him to again surreptitiously study his surroundings as the diner starts to pick up with families calling in for dinner. Only a few free booths remain and he thinks about claiming one of them, but since he's not expecting any company, he decides to stay at the bar. When he catches the barman on his way past, Jack orders a burger with fries and rests his elbows on the bar top as he lets his gaze drift to the television screens above the bar that are currently showing repeats from the weekend's ice hockey fixtures.
He's following the highlights from the Avalanche game when he becomes aware of someone sitting two seats down from him. He immediately knows it is a woman and resists the urge to sigh: he's not interested in either picking up a woman or being hit on and he's just getting his excuses ready when she signals for the barman. He takes the opportunity to risk a glance in her direction and Jack finds himself immediately reassessing his initial stance because the woman is beautiful.
"Go Caps!"
Her quiet exclamation surprises Jack and he quickly glances at the screen where her attention is fixed.
"You're a Caps fan?"
"I am, although it's mostly by default," she chuckles at his question. "I've been working in Washington for so long now –" she trails off with a shrug and Jack nods in understanding. He tends to follow the Avalanches these days, mostly for convenience if he wants to catch a live game, but ask him who his support really lies with and he'll tell you it will always be his beloved Blackhawks. He decides to test the water slightly and finally looks away from the television and back to her.
"So, what's your real colors?"
She smiles and Jack feels the knot in his stomach fray.
"Purple and jade."
He purses his lips as if deep in thought. "You're a Ducks fan?"
"Don't sound so horrified," she smirks.
"How does one go from California to Washington to Colorado Springs?"
"Work."
"Yeah," he sighs, "I get that."
She gives him a bemused look so he adds, "Air Force."
"Ah."
The barman arrives and she points at Jack's drink, saying one of those will be fine, and Jack watches her out of the side of his eye. While she waits for her beer, she studies the TV but her words are directed to Jack.
"Don't worry, I'm just waiting for my drink. I'm not going to impose on your evening."
He raises a brow. "What do you mean?"
"Isn't that why you're observing me? Trying to decide what my motives are for sitting here?"
He appreciates her confidence to call him out but chooses not to let her know that, especially when he sees the smile tugging at the corner of her lips and he decides that if she's comfortable enough to tease him, he'll return the favor.
"I was actually trying to decide if you really are a beer drinker – or whether you'd prefer a glass of wine."
This time her eyebrows rise as she meets his gaze.
"Always beer," she finally confirms, "unless I'm on a date."
"Red or white?"
"You strike me as an astute man… you tell me."
"Red."
There's no hesitation, no doubt, on his part which surprises him and the smile that his companion tries to hide tells him that he's right. The barman leaves her drink and tells Jack that he'll be back in a few minutes with his food, leaving the couple sitting in a comfortable silence.
When Jack's meal arrives he pushes the plate around before he unwraps the napkin from around the cutlery and takes a drink. He feels awkward eating while she isn't, but he notices her stealing glances at his plate.
"Would you like to copy my food order too?"
She smirks. "I was actually trying to decide if you're a ketchup or mustard kind of man."
He folds his arms and levels his most charming smile in her direction. "You tell me."
"Both."
"Now that is impressive." He holds out his hand which she accepts. "I'm Jack."
"Sam," she smiles.
"Do you want to order?"
She stares longingly at his plate but she shakes her head. "No, I should probably be going."
His gaze darts to her drink. "You've hardly touched your beer."
She's uncertain so he makes a show of moving the cutlery around as he speaks. "When did you last eat?"
"Um…" Her brow puckers slightly. "I had breakfast."
"Then you probably shouldn't drink on an empty stomach."
He signals for the barman.
"I can –"
"Consider it my treat," he interrupts before he fully realizes what he is saying.
She studies him for a moment and he can see she's unsure but he holds a hand up and any previous teasing disappears.
"No pressure, no strings attached."
Another few moments pass before she comes to a decision.
"Sure."
He catches the attention of the barman.
"Can we get another one of these," he asks, pointing to his food, "and a beer."
He nods and is just about to turn away when Jack adds, "and ask the lady if she would like a red wine, please."
The bartender glances between the two for a moment and Jack can't quite hide his smile when Sam nods before she moves to sit on the stool next to him, her shoulder ever-so-slightly brushing his.