The two of them were silent for a full minute while they watched Jaffer running across the old snow in the back yard, a dark shadow moving against the shadows brought on by the fully set sun and the big tree in Jack's back yard. Ian was quiet, fairly certain that Jack was just trying to figure out exactly what he wanted to say and how he wanted to say it. Undoubtedly it would be a threat, or a bunch of them, thinly – or not so thinly – disguised as yet another lecture.

Finally, Jack spoke.

"That's quite a dress…"

Ian nodded.

"She looks good in it."

Jack scowled.

"You remember what we talked about?"

Of course he remembered. Even without the memory he had, how could he forget?

"No drinking, no smoking, no drugs, or quiet walks or slow dances…" Ian said, saying them in the exact order that Jack had given him that morning. Jack recognized it as well, and his scowl deepened. He wasn't sure if Ian was being sarcastic or not, and he didn't like that.

"You remember what I said about that dress?"

"You want it to stay on her," Ian told him. "Do you remember what I told you, Jack?"

Of course he did. Jack's memory wasn't as sharp as Ian's, but he knew what Ian had told him – he just didn't like his own questioning turned on him. Ian didn't even give him a chance to answer. A sure sign that he was getting fed up with the whole lecture scene – and he'd been far more patient than he normally was.

"I told you it would. I told you that I wasn't going to do anything, and I'll say it again. I'm not going to do anything. So spare me another lecture, okay? I've had enough of them for the day – and enough dirty looks to last me a lifetime."

Without waiting for an answer, Ian turned and went back into the house, leaving Jack staring at his retreating back, unsure whether to go after him and keep him from going inside so he could finish the lecture, or to just let him go. Jaffer came rushing up just then, shoving his nose into Jack's hand and drawing his attention to himself and away from Ian.

Distracted, Jack scratched Jaffer's neck and shoulder, the decision already made for him as the glass door slid shut behind Ian.

"Damn it."

He scowled, and then headed for the door, Jaffer walking cheerfully beside him.

OOOOOOOO

Cassie and Sam both looked over when Ian walked in, closing the door behind him and looking annoyed, but not cowed. When he saw Sam and Cassie both watching him, he lost the annoyed look – although there was still a little of it lingered in his dark eyes, Sam noticed. Ian wasn't all that great at hiding his feelings, and they all knew it.

"You okay?" Sam asked, giving him a sympathetic smile. She'd known Ian was in for a rough day – which was why she'd warned him – but she had no idea how rough it had been, and she knew it.

He nodded. Aside from feeling like shit, and feeling like the whole world was turning on him – although it'd really only been Jack, since he knew Janet Fraiser hadn't liked him to start with – he was great. Just fucking ducky.

"Fine."

He even managed to give her a smile, one that almost reached his eyes. A sure sign that he was trying to be cheerful against all the odds. Then Cassie came over to stand beside him, putting her hand in his, and Sam saw the tenseness in Ian's expression soften a bit.

The door opened again, and Jack and Jaffer came in, Jack looking just as annoyed as Ian had – which surprised Sam and made her wonder what Ian had said to Jack. He saw Sam watching him, and like Ian had, he schooled his features to mask his irritation – and he was a lot better at it than the cadet was. Only if you knew him well could you see the tenseness in his expression, and his brown eyes didn't sparkle with good humor like they normally did when Cassie was over.

"Are we ready for some pictures?" Sam asked, reaching out and touching Jack's arm, briefly. He turned to her, and wrapped an arm around her, hugging her close for just a moment before nodding.

"Yeah. Let's get them taken and get these two on their way."

The sooner they left, the sooner they'd be done with the dance and the night would be over and things could go back to normal.

Sam smiled, well aware of what he was thinking, and then looked around, trying to decide where to position the happy couple for their pictures. She eventually put them in front of a plain white wall, and snapped several pictures – of Ian and Cassie, then Ian alone, then Cassie alone, then with Cassie and Jack, who even managed a sincere smile as he wrapped his arms around the teenager. Finally, she handed Jack the camera, and had a couple of pictures taken of her with Cassie, and then her with Ian, putting her arm around his lean waist and wishing she wasn't quite so top-heavy – although Ian assured her that she looked lovely, and would probably be glad to have the reminder of when she'd been pregnant. Even if it included him in the picture. She'd smiled, and was glad to see that the picture taking had managed to ease the tension in the room and that Jack and Ian were both smiling freely by the time she finally put the camera away and shooed Cassie and Ian out the door, admonishing them to have a wonderful time and not stay out too late.

When the door closed, Sam turned to Jack, who was leaning against the back of the sofa.

"They look wonderful."

He scowled, but had to nod his agreement, and even the scowl couldn't survive when Sam walked over and pressed against him, clearly wanting to be held. He wrapped his arms around her more than willingly, and rested his head on her shoulder.

"When did she get curves?"

OOOOOOOO

"That wasn't so bad…"

Ian didn't say anything in response as he backed the car out of the driveway and headed into what little traffic there was. He was wondering to himself if Jack was going to eventually make him pay for walking out of the lecture like he had.

Cassie sighed, to herself, knowing that while it hadn't been that bad, it had ruined the moment between them, and she wasn't sure whether to be angry or to cry.

"Ian?"

He turned his head to look at her for a moment before turning back to watch the road.

"Yeah?"

"Don't be mad… please?"

He sighed, and shook his head, reaching out and resting his right hand lightly on her thigh – although low enough that it couldn't be construed as a 'move'.

"I'm not mad, Cassandra," he told her. She knew he was lying, but she was glad for the lie, and even gladder when he took her hand and brought it to his lips, kissing the palm reassuringly before bringing her hand back down onto his thigh and pinning it there. "It's your night, sweetheart. I'm not going to let anyone ruin it."

She smiled, at the kiss, the promise, and the fact that he'd called her sweetheart – the first ever term of endearment he'd used with her – and the mood in the car lightened considerably as they headed for the convention center, where the dance was being held.