A/N: Have I mentioned that in the long run this will be blatant Sam/Jack? Don't worry. They'll get there. Eventually.

A/N2: Big hugs and cookies to: VisualIDentificationZeta, TubaPrincess (love your penname), and Natters for reviewing the last chapter!

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I'm humming when he gets back. I decided to forego the reading, and just did a little . . . let's say it was under-cover work . . . oh boy . . . he'll never know what hit him.

"Hey Carter, you want a brewski?"

Brewski. Yep. We're in Minnesota all right.

"Sure sir."

"And cut it out with that 'yes sir no sir three bags full sir' crap." Ahhah. Operation Bug-The-Hell-Out-Of-O'Neill, Stage Two, you have a go.

"Yes sir."

"Now what did I just say?"

"You said, 'now what did I just say' sir." Oh man, this is too easy.

"No, about the 'you calling me sir' thing."

"Oh, yes sir, what about it?"

"Carter . . ." Okay he's getting there . . .

"Yes sir?"

"I . . . you . . . wha . . . hunh!" Poor guy. I really should go easy on him. Oh well, old habits and all . . .

"I'm sorry sir, what?"

"Don't call me that!"

"What sir?"

"Yes!"

"What sir?"

"Exactly!"

"I'm sorry sir, what?" Now I'm glad my dad made me listen to all those Abbott & Costello routines.

"DON'T CALL ME SIR."

"Oh okay Colonel. Jeez, all you had to do was ask."

As the steam pours out of his ears, I smile innocently and hold out my bottle.

"You look like you could use a drink . . . sir."

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That went well.

Operation BTHOOO'N, Stage Two, was a complete success. Using skills garnered from a life-long passion for Vaudeville, I was able to run circles around him logically (as always) and by the time I was done with him, he was as confused as a hamster in a lion's cage. Poor guy. Ah well, that's what happens when you get between me and my work.

Time for Stage Three.

Stage Three is in two parts, one of which I have already set up (while Colonel O'Neill was at the ranger's station). However, it's time-sensitive, so I'll just wait patiently in front of the fire playing cards with him. I've decided to let him win the "sir" battle, it'll give him a false sense of security. Those always come in handy.

After a few hours of Deuces, which for some reason I seem to be proficient at . . . hunh . . . wonder if it had to do with my stint in Vegas . . . anyway, I'm lying in bed with the light out, waiting for the fun to begin.

"YEARGH!"

I smile. Houston, we have lift-off.

I wait an appropriate few seconds, then jump out of bed and run down the corridor. My bedroom attire was chosen specifically for this stage. I knock on his door and call out, "Sir? Are you alright?" He pulls the door open to find me in silk boxers and an army-green tank top that he should find very familiar. The look on his face is absolutely priceless.

"Carter! Uh, yeah I'm fine, uh, erm, did you scream?"

Nice comeback, I'm impressed that he can think that straight. I shake my head slowly, then make a joke out of it, "Maybe some camper just ran into Bigfoot or something, eh? G'night . . . Jack."

I walk nonchalantly back to my room, putting just the slightest sway in my hips. As I re-enter my room I look back. He's standing in his doorway, slack-jawed and dazed, and I have to stuff a fist into my mouth to keep from laughing out loud.

I shut my door but stand there, listening intently until I hear his door close, then I punch the air gleefully and head for bed. I think I'll sleep better than the dear Colonel tonight, mostly because I'm alone and he's got three very realistic plastic spiders in bed with him, along with an assortment of sand and small rocks. Oh and don't forget the itching powder.

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A/N: Teehee. And that was just the first part of Stage Three! Oh the possibilities are endless...tune in tomorrow! Or the next day. Or next year. Sometime.