Disclaimer: Just having fun with the characters for a little bit. Promise to give them back. Don't own them, never will. Sigh...

Author's notes: thanks to the following...Queen Tigress (sorry to have confuzzled your pa, and by the way, you both read and reviewed in under two minutes, which must be some kind of record, so thanks and well done, lol!), Desert-Blossom-by-the-Sea (that would be a wise precaution. Indeed!), kittn (keep on laughing, sweetie!), Lorettakay (you only have to wait now until you've finished reading this rather verbose set of author's notes, lol!), BookWorm37 (Hammond's office, coming right up), Verb (you're an Asgard? Cool!), Jennyvre Moss (nice to know you can picture it!), CrystalClear444 (glad you likey!), feb04 (no jitterbugging, I'm afraid!) and chaotic pink chocobo (great name!). Andmy bestest to all at As The Stargate Turns, as ever. Please note that there are some distinctly suggestive comments made towards the end of this chappie, but I hope that I've kept them within the ratings boundary. It is never my intent to cause offence when I write so I hope y'all enjoy this for the lighthearted fun itis supposed to be! Bestest wishies and big grins.

The Major Of The Moment

It was a strange moment.

She was all too sure she was gaping in shock.

She wasn't, however, too sure she'd heard the General exactly correctly.

She spent a few seconds desperately trying to convert what she had just heard into orders about the naquada generator she'd been working on. Or the next mission to P9O 672. Or the introduction of purple combat wear. Or the fact that she ate all of the blue jello that was ever brought on base. Whatever.

It didn't work.

Oh.

She glanced towards the Colonel, who just shrugged, looked as shocked as she thought she did, and said, "Nothing to do with me, Carter."

She liked to think there was a small spark of hope in his eyes, though. She certainly was feeling some. More than some.

They both turned back to the General, unsure of what to say or do.

He just smiled at them both. "I have the President's signed permission, which should be..." he looked through the file that sat on his desk, then slammed on the intercom to Walter Harriman. "Where is that paperwork, Sergeant?"

"Uh, I'll bring it in now, Sir."

General Hammond looked a little exasperated as he turned the intercom off. "I'm sorry, Colonel, Major. That paperwork should have been my hands a couple of hours ago, but to be honest, I've spent my time worrying about this conversation. It is new and certainly, I hope, unique in my career. It's also, to tell the truth, a little awkward," he finished wryly, but warmly.

She flicked her gaze towards her C.O. again, only to see that his eyes were narrowed suspiciously.

She looked back to the General. Awkward didn't quite cover it, she thought. The time they had been daubed in violent pink facepaint on P9Z 362, only to realise after they had gated home that it would take weeks to wash off? Yes, awkward. Their recent return from P5X 397 in a moderately advanced state of undress? Still trying not to think about it and yes, a truly comprehensive example of awkward.

This? This was just plain weird!

There was a knock on the office door.

"Come in."

A flustered looking Walter Harriman bustled in bearing a single piece of paper.

And Jack O'Neill instantly made his move.

He intercepted the Sergeant, whipping the document away from him and with a quick, "If I may, Sir?", read it in it's entirety in what seemed like only seconds. He handed it on to the General when he was done. He was back in his postition standing next to her before Walter had stopped inspecting his newly empty hand. The General, the Colonel and the Major watched as he shook his head and turned, making his way out again.

He looked towards her and spoke. "Carter, I've had feelings for you for a long time. I like you very much, well, too much until about ten seconds ago, and I would like to get to know you a lot better. Would you go out with me?"

It was the question she had waited so long to hear.

Yet something, she realised, was drastically wrong.

His tone was off and he hadn't even waited until they were alone to ask.

Then he turned his face fully away from the others and started signalling her.

Sort of.

With his eyes.

In fact, she wouldn't so much say signalling, as having them scream at her.

'Say no, no, no, no, nooooo!' was what they cried.

That was kind of hurtful. But she trusted him implicitly.

So she shook her head slowly, not breaking way from his gaze.

Her answer was hesitant.

"Um...no, Sir?"

She could see him internally leaping for joy in the moment before he whipped his head around towards Walter, who was still lurking in the open doorway. The Sergeant was aghast, obviously floored by this particularly unexpected turn of events.

"Oh well, never mind!" the Colonel said cheerily, rubbing his hands together.

He turned his attention to the General. "If that's all, Sir, I'd like to thank you for your efforts and request that we be dismissed."

George Hammond looked curious at what had just transpired, but nodded his assent. "Dismissed."

The Colonel looked back to her. "Coming, Major? I feel the need to mark this great non-event with some cake!"

He didn't wait for her, just sweeping out of the room, past the totally befuddled Harriman, with his head held high.

As she started to follow, George Hammond spoke quietly enough to only be heard by her. "The Presidential permission holds, Major."

"Thank you, General," she replied softly. She smiled brightly as she left.

She caught up with the Colonel in a quiet corridor on the way to the commissary. When she fell into step beside him, she risked a tentative, "Sir?"

Jack O'Neill just looked at her and grinned widely. "If it isn't my hard-to-get second!" He leaned in towards her a little, lowering his voice. "Don't worry, Major, I'll be asking again tomorrow." He chuckled evilly.

For somebody so well practised at playing stupid, he sure knew how to confuse her sometimes.

She waved her hand back in the vague direction of General Hammond's office. "So why the..?"

He broke in. "Siler, Carter. D'uh!"

She blinked at the odd tangent the conversation was taking. "Siler, Sir?"

He was still grinning. "Yes, Siler. That paperwork was way too late, so he probably knew from Harriman before we knew from Hammond about the 'thing'. Soooo..."

She was horrified and stopped walking. "You think there's a pool?"

He turned to her and snorted. "Ya think there's not?"

As the light of true understanding of the lengths that a certain Colonel would go to just to thwart the gating gamblers of Cheyenne Mountain dawned, Major Samantha Carter brewed up an evil grin of her very own. "You think he's already been paying out on today?"

He shrugged nonchalantly, his eyes shining with mirth. "Ya think he hasn't?"

She was very impressed at his devious machinations. "Way to get back at 'em, Sir! Pure genius!"

He waggled his eyebrows and gave her the lopsided smile, the one she liked so much. "Takes one to know one, Major."

She began to giggle. The thought of Siler having to try and get back the 'winnings' he'd paid out today was just too funny. She slapped an extremely sloppy salute to her head. "Good luck with those Marines, Sergeant Siler! I salute you!"

His adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed a guffaw, put on a mock-serious look and barked, "No giggling, Major! This is a very serious matter!" His face contorted as he tried not to join her in what was rapidly becoming a descent into outright hysterical laughter on her part.

She, however, just couldn't stop. She had a sudden vision of Colonel Dixon hitting the injury prone Sergeant over the head repeatedly with an inflatable mattress, complaining all the while about the cost of diapers. It was too much. "Sorry, Sir!", she gasped, wrapping her arms around her ribcage to try to stop herself. "But when...oh god...when do you think...Siler will...next be in...in the infirmary?"

Colonel Jack O'Neill looked at his watch, seemingly considering the matter seriously whilst barely holding his composure.

After a few moments, he cleared his throat. "I've got ten that says within fifteen minutes."

She clapped a hand over her mouth to stop herself shrieking in amusement. She fought to compose herself for a long minute or so, before peeling the fingers away. "I'll take half an hour then."

"Done." He changed tack, his face becoming almost boyishly eager. "You're a scientist, right?"

She looked at him wryly. "How long have we been working together, Sir?"

He smiled. "I'll take that as a yes, Carter. So, scientifically speaking, would you say that midnight tonight will really be tomorrow?"

Her heart leapt in her chest, but she kept her voice steady. "I would agree with that assessment, Colonel."

His smile widened. "In that case, Major, will you be free at midnight? I have a question to ask you."

She sighed and tried to sound a little sad. "I think I might be too busy for any questions tonight, Sir."

"You might be? Doing what?" The questions flew out and there was a definite edge of panic to his voice.

She took a half-step towards him and looked up, gazing deeply into his eyes, speaking but one word slowly and in a suddenly husky voice.

"Kissing."

It had the desired effect. She could have sworn that he made some strangled sounds, before his eyes widened and his gaze seemed to flick down to his feet, then back up to her. He pulled the front of his green shirt downwards and began to speak haltingly.

"Um...I...um, I can't go to the commissary right now, Major. Need to...um...shower." He shook himself, clearly trying to think of a polite reason for the sudden diversion. "Um...I just woke up. So you go, eat cake. Eat my piece, too."

She grinned and he groaned. "Oh crap, I just said that, didn't I?" At her slight nod, he continued, despite being clearly embarrassed. "You know what I meant, Carter."

Oh she did, but this was too much fun! She looked at him, making sure that her eyes virtually bled innocence, her voice doubly so as she enunciated each word precisely and slowly. "Yes, Sir. You want me to eat your cake."

His jaw dropped for a moment, before he snapped it shut and damn near whined, "No fair, Carter! Go. Commissary. Now. Please!"

She smiled, took pity on him and turned away.

When she sauntered off in the direction of the commissary, she threw a happy, "See you later, Sir", back over her shoulder.

She managed to shoehorn herself into a somewhat more professional demeanor by the time she arrived there, any initial outward curiosity from staff gathered there waning when they noticed the slightly frosty look she had purposely painted onto her features.

The two pieces of chocolate cake she chose helped as well. Everybody at the SGC knew that when Major Samantha Carter got double helpings of dessert, it was time to find somewhere nice and safe to hide from the technobabble. Fortunately, as they had access to the stargate, they could seek said refuge on another planet if things got really bad.

So the Major was given a wide berth and left in peace as she manoeuvered herself onto a chair at a table in the corner.

Which was nice.

As she dug into the whole heap of calories on her plate, she was cool on the outside, but on the inside it was a different matter.

She was mentally doing the foxtrot, the mambo and the charleston, all at once. Which, when she automatically tried to figure it out, was more than a bit strange. So she simply stopped.

She had other, far more important things to think about.

Like what kind of a perfect day was this, where she could eat two slices of double chocolate fudge cake whilst thinking freely of Jack O'Neill, who was currently in the shower, for cryin' out loud?

And Holy Hannah, she was beginning to sound like him already!

She glanced a the commissary clock and suddenly she couldn't help it any longer. She grinned at the large forkful of cake she was holding.

Seven hours, thirty-six minutes and forty-eight seconds 'til tomorrow.

Sweet!