Thanks to all who've reviewed "Coffee And Conversation" and "A To Z". Too many to respond to individually — these notes would end up being longer than the story — but hugs to you all!

Wow, my muse is on a roll lately. Unfortunately, I have to go back to work tomorrow, so will have to gag her once more. I don't think my boss would appreciate my muse's random ramblings as much as you wonderful people seem to.

Anyway … here goes!

Turning The Tables #1

Sam Carter turned in her bed as she felt movement beside her. "Whatcha doing?" she mumbled sleepily, hugging the man and burying her head in his chest.

Jack dropped a gentle kiss onto her forehead. "Have to go back to DC," he said. "Urgent meeting with the big guy."

"Crap," she muttered, opening her eyes and letting go.

"Yeah," he agreed, standing up and pulling on the jacket of his dress blues. "I'll make it up to you, Sam," he promised.

"I know," she replied. She watched him appreciatively as he ran a comb through his hair. She'd spent almost all her adult life in the Air Force — had seen hundreds of men in a uniform — but there was just something about Jack O'Neill in dress blues …

They'd been together now for over six months, and she never tired of looking at him. Broad shoulders, tanned skin, deep brown eyes, gray hair that stuck up at the back — the man was gorgeous and he didn't even know it. Definitely yummy.

She snickered silently — who knew kick-ass USAF Colonel Sam Carter could be such a sap? Not that she'd put him on a pedestal or anything. She loved the man, but he had the ability to piss her off more easily than any man she'd ever known. And that included that twerp McKay.

Jack adjusted his tie with a grimace, then came back over to the bed. "I'll call you tonight," he said, then pressed a soft kiss to her lips.

"Mmmmm, 'kay," she said against his lips.

Sam tucked her seat under the table and sipped her diet soda while perusing the menu. God, she was starving! There was something about mall-hopping that always brought out her inner glutton.

"Sam? Sam Carter?"

She turned and looked at the woman standing at her table. Small, slim, brown hair and green eyes. She looked familiar … "Oh, my God … Kate!" she said, getting up to hug her old room-mate from college.

"Sam. God, you haven't changed!"

"You have," Sam said, indicating the belly her old friend hugged protectively.

Kate sat down with a sigh. "My third," she said. "So much for the never getting married, never having kids thing, huh?"

"You were pretty drunk when you made that vow," Sam reminded her.

"Oh, yeah." Kate eyed Sam. "So … what about you? No ring on that finger. I take it you didn't marry … whatsisface … Jonas?"

"No."

"Good. He was creepy; thought he was some minor deity or something," Kate opined.

If you only knew how true that became!, Sam thought. "I'm about to order; you want to catch up for a while?" she asked.

"Yeah; I'd like that," Kate said, maneuvering her body into a more comfortable position. "So … are you seeing someone?"

"Yep," Sam said. "His name's Jack O'Neill."

"An Irish boy?" Kate grinned. "You always liked the Irish guys."

And how, Sam reflected. Jonas Hansen, Pete Shanahan, Jack O'Neill — all Irish boys, and couldn't be any more different from each other. "He's not your typical Irish guy," she said. "Never been big on the talking, but he's got other skills that make up for that."

"So … tell me more about him. I know you joined the Air Force — does he have a problem with that?"

Sam chuckled. "No; he's Air Force too," she said.

"Jack O'Neill … Jack O'Neill …". Kate frowned, then clicked her fingers. "The new guy at the Pentagon — heads up NORAD and the Groom Lake facility."

"Yes …," Sam said warily. How did a civilian know who Jack was?

"My husband's based at the Pentagon," Kate said. "Must be some pretty crazy stuff going on in O'Neill's branch — every other word out of Ray's mouth is 'classified'."

"Ah."

"So … Jack O'Neill." Kate frowned slightly. "Isn't he a bit old for you? He's got to be … what? Near fifty?"

Sam shrugged. "Don't care," she said. The man had the strength and stamina of a man half his age — likely due to those horrible sarcophagi — and … he was damn hot. She dug in her purse and produced a picture she'd taken recently of Jack laughing with Cassie. "That's him," she said.

Kate looked at the picture, then patted her heart. "Oh, boy," she said. "Sam; I'm in the horny phase of my pregnancy — you should not have shown this to me!"

Sam laughed. "He is gorgeous," she agreed. Especially in those rare unguarded moments when everything he felt would shine out through those beautiful brown eyes.

"So … any plans for marriage?"

"No!" Sam was horrified at the idea. Not that she hadn't thought about it — especially in those blissful post-coital moments — but she knew they weren't ready yet. "No; it's too soon. We've only been together six months, for crying out loud!"

Then she closed her eyes. God; she was starting to talk like him. Why not just get 'His' and 'Hers' towels and have done with it?

"Well, you should." Kate handed the photo back. "Someone like him isn't going to be on the market forever."

"Hey, Sam!"

Six months and she still got a stupid grin on her face when he called her. The man had turned her into an adolescent! "Jack," she said. "How did your meeting go?"

"Pretty good," Jack said easily. "The big guy sends his greetings, by the way."

"The President?" she squeaked. "President Hayes?"

"He likes you," Jack said, "though he thinks you're nuts for putting up with me for this long."

Jack O'Neill — the man she loved — was friends with the most powerful man in the whole damn country. That was just … weird. "Oh," she said lamely.

"Fraid I won't be able to make it home this week," he continued. Home. He said that so casually. "But I want to make it up to you. So … what can I do?"

She thought, then an evil grin appeared on her face. "Daniel found a list you wrote about me," she said. "I want examples."

Silence.

Dead.

Dumbstruck.

Silence.

She wanted to giggle and clamped down on that urge. "Jack?" she cooed in her best solicitous voice.

"He … found it?" That was a distinct croak from the big bad-ass Major General. "And he gave it to you?"

"Yep." And now she giggled. "Sorry."

"No. It's … fine. It's cool. Gonna kill one geeky archeologist or … tie him to Vala next time they meet," he rambled. "You're serious, Sam?"

"Oh, yeah," Sam purred.

Haven't really written established S/J before. The flirting is fun … is easy … just have to watch that blue dress scene in "Emancipation" or the end of "The Broca Divide" for inspiration … but an established relationship? Oh, boy! Trying to keep them in character with no on-screen guidance is difficult. I hope I've achieved it.

Starrgazer: your review actually inspired the title for this sequel, so thanks to you!