B is for Briefings

"I hate briefings."

General Jack O'Neill was in a bad mood, stalking down the hallway and huffing demonstratively. Sam kept up with him, and failed to hide a smile at his grumpiness.

"I can see you smiling, Colonel."

Jack's voice and use of her rank told Sam that it was not just an observation, he was looking for prey. She put on a serious face.

"Yes, sir. Sorry, sir." She responded quickly.

Jack's face softened slightly as he realized that he was being unfair.

"Don't be sorry, it's not your fault, Carter."

"With your permission," Sam said suddenly, "I'll lead the briefing, sir. I was on the mission, it's nothing I don't know."

Jack stopped promptly, Sam halting with him.

"You, Colonel Carter, are a true hero." He said, a grin growing on his face.

Sam grinned back and started walking toward the briefing room on her own. She turned over her shoulder.

"Yeah, but you still owe me!" she called loudly, knowing no one was around to hear her being so out of line with a commanding officer.

Jack shook his head, "cheeky" he mumbled under his breath. But he let it slide, because he freaking hated briefings.