There is actually plot in this chapter! Shock, gasp. Hope you enjoy!

"Carter; you might want to watch out for that mud hole there," the Colonel pointed out – oh so helpfully.

Smart ass.

Of course, she couldn't take him too seriously, considering she remembered his drunken eagerness to try on Janet's eyeliner. And Janet's eagerness to put the stuff on him.

"Thank you, sir. I noticed that," Sam told her CO, perching on a handy rock and using a twig to scrape some of the mud off of her boots. "Where was that warning two minutes ago?"

A tiny smirk appeared on the Colonel's face. "Where was your Vaseline before the briefing?"

"Touché," Sam said. As Jack O'Neill paybacks went, this was very mild. "I'm surprised you didn't have me in that mud hole." She indicated the very large hole they'd carefully bypassed.

"And mess up your pretty face?" The Colonel pursed his lips as if in deep contemplation, then shook his head. "Nah." Then he wandered off to help Teal'c set up camp.

Leaving Sam Carter speechless.

"Sam; what're you doing?"

"Cleaning mud off my boots, Daniel," Sam said, grabbing a wet wipe to remove some of the mud that had splashed onto her arms.

"No; you and Jack … The flirting's getting pretty bad." The linguist looked worried. "I think even General Hammond's noticed." He shook his head. "Don't get me wrong; it's nice to see you two getting back to the way things used to be, but …"

"But …?"

"You need to cool your jets. At least while you're on duty." Daniel huffed. "I can't believe I'm having to be the voice of caution here, but the SGC has a lot of enemies. You and Jack would be shark-feed, and your reputation would be blown."

And SG-1's with it, Sam mused, wondering just when Daniel had lost his charming air of naivete. "Okay, Daniel; I get it," she said, mourning the loss of his innocence. "We'll be more careful."

"All right, then." The man she alternately thought of as 'little brother', 'big brother' and 'pain in the ass' gave her a hug. "I am happy for you, though."

"Daniel; we're not doing anything," Sam said, cursing her fair skin as a deep blush rose over her cheeks.

"I know." Daniel shrugged his shoulders. "But … whatever's going on between you two is making Jack a lot happier. And a happy Jack is a lot less of a pain in the ass than usual."

Sam shook her head, scratching gently at her stomach. She knew Daniel and Jack cared deeply for each other – had a very strong bond. It just manifested itself in playful – usually – antagonism. Like brothers.

That night:

Sam groaned and flopped over onto her stomach, working her hand up inside her tee shirt to claw at her skin.

Just … a little … higher!

"Ack!" she grumbled, giving up. Fit and athletic she might be, but the human body just didn't bend that way.

"Carter! What the hell are you doing?"

Her CO sat up from his sleeping bag several feet away and she pulled her tee shirt down quickly before he saw something he really shouldn't. "Sorry, sir," she said, resisting the urge to grab his bowie knife and peel off all her skin. "It's nothing."

He scrubbed a hand over his face and through his hair, leaving it sticking up even more than usual. "Don't give me that, Carter," he said. "I've seen you take a staff blast with less complaints."

Oh, says the guy who does the same but whines and gripes like a five year old at a little penlight! She could have said it but didn't – she wasn't about to be busted back to Captain. "It's just … an itch."

"Care for me to scratch it?" he asked.

"Sir?" she squeaked. Surely he couldn't have meant that the way it came out? Yes; he was a good-looking, sexy man. Yes; she was highly attracted to him. Yes; they were CO and 2IC, doing the most important worthwhile jobs either could ever have imagined.

He visibly cringed. "Wow; that didn't come out right," he said. "You just … it seems to be in a place you can't reach, and I can't have you tossing and turning all night." He sent her a winning smile, then a cheeky one. "Permission to stick my hands up your shirt, Major?"

Maybe it was the lateness of the hour. Maybe it was a reflection of how good their friendship had been lately. Maybe it was something else. But whatever it was, Sam couldn't help but laugh. "Permission granted, sir," she said, presenting her back to him.

Two long-fingered hands slid up the shirt, sending goose-bumps in their wake. The man had uncommonly nice hands.

"Just … a little higher, sir," she grunted, glad the dark night hid the flush of … arousal? … forming on her cheeks.

"There?" he asked, scritching gently.

"Oh … bliss," Sam moaned as the annoying itching sensation subsided. Ever since she'd fallen into that horrible peaty bog, she'd felt itchy. This was the one thing she hated about going off-world – no adequate wash facilities. And wet wipes just didn't cut it. She buried her face in her folded arms and groaned as those skilled fingers took care of another itchy area. "God … don't stop," she pleaded.

A snicker came from the man sending her to heaven. "God … can you imagine what people would think if they heard you right now?" he commented.

Sam just shrugged her shoulders. "Chance would be a fine thing," she mumbled sleepily. Christ; it had been … Good God; over six years! With a guy she'd met shortly before being posted to the SGC. Hell, she was practically a born-again virgin!

"Carter?" her CO queried.

"Ah … nothing, sir," Sam said, suddenly remembering where she was and just who she was talking to. She wriggled away from those warm hands, feeling extremely embarrassed. "Thanks for the scratch, sir – I'll be okay now."

"Okay." The Colonel gave a quick cough – that hairball-in-the-throat hack he gave when he was embarrassed – and patted her back. "Go back to sleep, Carter."

"Yes, sir," Sam replied. "G'night, Colonel."

"Night, Carter."

The next day:

Yellow was in his eyes, and something warm and soft was wrapped around him. Jack struggled to awareness in a way he usually didn't when off world, then realized.

The yellow was Carter's hair and the warm and soft wrapped around him was Carter's body. He shifted gently, not wanting to wake her up, but she mumbled something incoherent and tightened her arms around him, rubbing up against his …

Now, Jack O'Neill had a lot of self-control. He wasn't always horny and had slept quite easily with the women he'd been involved with without becoming aroused. Yes; a guy could sleep in the same bed as a woman without getting a boner! But when it came to a hot sexy blonde rubbing her pelvis against his, even Jack had a breaking point.

He took a deep breath and tried to ease himself away from the unusually cuddly Carter. Cuddly Carter grunted something incoherent and tightened her arms around him, snuggling into his neck, her lips brushing against the sensitive skin covering his Adam's Apple.

Jack groaned quietly – his neck had always been one of his sweet spots – and he was sorely tempted to wake Cuddly Carter up and show her exactly what she was doing to him.

But common sense – and his morality – stopped him. If he and Cuddly Carter ever got together, she would damn well be cognizant!

Cuddly Carter snorted – Real ladylike, Sam! – then unraveled from him, rolled over and went back to sleep.

Jack exhaled loudly in relief, then decided he might as well relieve Daniel, seeing as he was already … ahem … up. Slipping on his jacket, he stepped out of the tent and headed over to where Daniel was sitting, sipping at his omnipresent cup of coffee. "Morning," he said.

"Oh." Daniel blinked up at him. "Morning." He lifted up the canteen. "Coffee?"

"Please," Jack said, sitting down on a handy log and stretching out his long legs.

"So … sleep well?"

That was a definite note of mischief in the younger man's voice. Jack did his best to try for innocence. "Fine, Daniel – you?"

"Oh, pretty well. Of course, I didn't have a blonde security blanket, but I guess a guy can't have everything."

Jack was dismayed when he felt his cheeks turn red. "Daniel …," he growled.

"Relax, Jack; I'm just yanking your chain," the linguist/archeologist/soldier/pain in the ass told him. "But you have to admit; you and Sam have been pretty flirty the last few weeks."

"Yes, well …". Jack coughed and sucked down his coffee. "Anyway, let's wake the kids up."

The flirting between them was getting pretty out of control. Jack knew it, and he knew Sam knew it. But it was such a small thing, and reminded Jack of the early days. Before the Zatarc tests.

Kanan wasn't the only reason Jack disliked the Tok'ra. Although the snake was the biggest reason.

He actually hated Kanan more than Ba'al. Ba'al at least had made no pretense to be anything other than what he was – for Ba'al, it was just another day at the office. But Kanan … That damn Tok'ra snake had hung Jack out to dry.

Jack shook his head, and pushed the dark memories back into their tiny cage at the back of his mind. Then went to wake up the two remaining 'kids'.

Later that same day:

Jack and Teal'c were walking slightly behind Daniel and Carter as they bounced along, doing their eager scientist-geek thing. He held up his hand when he saw a movement in the bushes. He nudged Teal'c. "We've got a shadow," he said in low tones.

"Indeed," Teal'c said, not even looking at the bushes. "They are not very proficient trackers."

"Okay; whoever you are, come out with your hands up," Jack said, aiming his P90 at the bushes.

The bushes rustled, then their tracker appeared. And it was quite possibly the cutest little girl Jack had ever seen. Couldn't be any more than about three, with disheveled red curls and big brown eyes.

Eyes that widened as she saw the two tall men. Then filled with tears as she fixed on Teal'c's forehead.

"Ah … no, kid!" Jack said quickly. "We're not Goa'ulds. Honest!"

The tiny little pointed chin quivered and the girl covered her eyes with her hands.

Jack smiled involuntarily – he remembered when Charlie had been that young and had thought people wouldn't see him if he did that. "We can still see you, baby," he pointed out.

Daniel and Carter appeared next to him. "That's a child, sir!" Carter pointed out.

"That's it, Carter; I'm taking away your genius license," Jack grumbled, hunkering down to be at the little girl's level. A good thing Bocce had fixed up his crappy knees in his little palace of delights.

Even with his back to her, he could feel the 'Bite me' stare Carter leveled at him.

He was so damn proud.

"Hey, kid; where are your parents?" he asked.

"Uhm, Jack … I don't think she understands English," Daniel said, smirking. "Let me try."

Damn know it all linguist. "Have at it, Rock Boy," Jack said, returning the smirk to the power 10. No-one could out-smirk Jack O'Neill, although he had a feeling that if Carter wasn't his 2IC, she just might be able to do it. She was becoming more and more of a smart ass as she grew in confidence.

The linguist scowled at him, then joined him, kneeling on the ground. "Bonjour," he tried.

Nothing.

"Buenas dias."

Zip.

"Guten Morgen."

Squat.

"Oh, give it up, Daniel!" Jack said. Nerts to you, Rock Boy. "Even if she understands us, she's probably terrified." He got up and looked around. "Well … we have a kid. That would indicate there's a village or a city or something round here."

"You are correct."

A man and woman stepped out of the clearing, the woman holding out her arms. "Maire!" she said.

The little girl shrieked and flew into the woman's embrace. "Mama!" she said, wrapping her tiny arms around the woman's neck. She pointed at SG-1. "Jaffa!"

"Ah, Christ … here we go," Jack said, rolling his eyes. "Yes; he's a Jaffa. No; he doesn't serve any snake. He's a good guy. We're not Goa'uld. Okay?"

The woman laughed. "You're very ill-tempered, stranger," she said. "You remind me of my father."

Oh, great; he looked that old, did he? And he wasn't ill-tempered – he was … Okay; so he was a bit impatient. He'd always considered it part of his charm. "How nice for you," he said. "We came here exploring, so we'll be on our way."

"Sir; the UAV should have picked up human life signs," Carter said.

"Worthless," Jack grunted. "Well, we'll be going, so we'll see you lovely folks around the block. But … keep a better eye on cutie, will ya?" he added, unable to help smiling at the tiny redhead who was now watching them with impossibly huge eyes. "She's a little too small and adorable to be left to wander around alone."

The man looked at the woman. "He is short-tempered, yet he cares for the helpless."

"Indeed," the woman returned. "Perhaps this one can be trusted. But what of the others?"

"A-ah! We're here, ya know!" Jack objected. "Don't talk about us like we're not here."

"Jack …," Daniel interrupted.

"You want to know about us; ask us!" Jack said. "We'll tell you … some stuff. And, besides the big guy, we're all human. From Earth if you really wanna know."

"Jack …"

"Daniel?" Jack eyed the younger man with his best menacing stare but after seven years – or six if you didn't count the year he was all 'glowy' – Daniel was immune.

"Could you try to be a little nicer?" Daniel said. "We're on their world, barging around without invitation. You really want to take America's history of manifest destiny out to the stars?"

The guy had a point – if a little snarkily made. But Jack was just no good at the diplomacy thing. He was far better at the point and shoot. "Yeah; okay," he said grumpily.

A tiny giggle came from behind him. Thanks, Carter, he mused, then gave a reluctant grin when the little girl … Maire … echoed the giggle.

"He's funny, Mama," she said. "What's your name?"

"Jack O'Neill," Jack said. "And that's Daniel Jackson, Sam Carter and the big guy is Teal'c."

"I am Roisin and this is my husband, Lars. And what do you want with this world, Jack O'Neill?" the woman said in her soft voice.

"We're peaceful explorers," Daniel said.

"With very large weapons," the man – Lars – pointed out. "How do we know you aren't here to rape our planet of its elements?"

"Uh …". Daniel was stymied there.

Jack could get to like this guy – no bullshit. "You don't," he said. "Unless you happen to be psychic. And we don't know that you aren't in league with the snake-heads and planning to sell us out for some big honkin' bounty."

And now the man laughed. "I begin to like you, Jack O'Neill," he said. "On the basis of mutual mistrust, we could perhaps … Is there something wrong with you, young woman?" he broke off, turning to stare at Carter.

Who had her hands back up inside her tee shirt, clawing madly at her skin. She dropped them and went red when she saw the group stare. "Oh! I … uh … fell into some mud yesterday – I'm just a bit itchy."

"Yes; you will be," the woman said. "The mud is an irritant in its liquid state, but hardens to become one of the strongest materials known to our scientists. We use it for building our homes."

She went over to Carter and peeled up the bottom of her tee shirt, treating Jack to an intriguing inch of soft pale Sam skin.

Jack blinked. Why did he feel like he'd seen that soft Sam skin very recently?

Focus, O'Neill!

Her soft pale Sam skin was now covered in livid scratch marks and mottled sores. Jack whistled. "Ouch," he muttered.

"No kidding," Carter said irritably. "I'll be fine when we get back to the SGC and I can take a proper shower."

Carter. Shower. Naked. Wet. Soapy.

Jack blinked again and forced his mind out of the gutter. "I presume we're free to leave?" he said more than a little snippily. What the hell was wrong with him lately? It was like he had all the self control of a teenager.

Oh … crap. Again?

He looked quickly down at his hand, and saw the signs of age – calluses, fine lines. He blew out a relieved breath. Thank God. No mini-me.

"Of course," Roisin said. She dug in the large purse-like thing she carried – Jack wondered irrelevantly if women carrying bottomless purses was one of the universal constants – then produced a small vial containing some purple liquid. "We use this to remove the itching and to destroy the microbes contained within the mud. It may not work on your physiology, but it is worth trying."

By now, Carter's hands were back inside her tee shirt, clawing desperately at the skin. Hard enough that she'd broken several of the sores, causing them to bleed. "Carter!" Jack barked. "Stop that damn scratching!"

Yeah, right, he scolded himself. That's like saying don't look at the giant pink elephant in the corner.

The look Carter shot him told him she agreed with him as she did not stop in her ministrations. "Sorry … sir," she grunted, her face turning red with her wild movements. "Ah … sir?" she added.

"Yes, Carter?" He wasn't grinding his teeth, he wasn't.

"I … uh … don't feel so good," she told him, and crumpled suddenly.