Three weeks after he'd kissed Carter outside her house and he hadn't managed to look her in the eye yet.

They'd gone on eight missions and every time she'd tried to finagle her way into being paired with him and every time he put her with Daniel or Teal'c.

One night he came home to find a message on his voicemail from an Unknown Number. He pressed play.

"You no-good, rotten, low-down, dirty weasel! You think you can kiss me and just leave me hanging?! I demand an explanation!"

He blinked at the answering machine. That was definitely Carter.

"Well," he said to himself. "She's beginning to get a bit antsy."

And whose fault is that, Prince Charming? asked the damn voice. You did kind of leave her hanging. I hear girls love that.

"Shut up," he muttered, glancing at the clock on the phone and groaned. "Ennngh, time to hit the rack. I can't believe I invited the team over for a cookout. Like being around Carter at work wasn't bad enough." He grabbed a beer from the fridge and as he was drinking it, the voice said, Hope she's bringing the brats, don't you?

Beer sprayed across the kitchen. "The hell," Jack said.

The voice didn't say anything further, but he got a distinct impression that it was smug. He groaned again and went to bed. This was going to be worse than the night at the bar, he just had a feeling.

And he was right. Because the next day when he opened his front door to see Daniel and Teal'c standing there, with Carter's head poking in between them, he could tell.

She was up to something. And, God help him, he really wanted to know what. And, thankfully, he didn't have to wait long.

When they came in, he was surprised to see that she was wearing a jacket and since it was about a hundred million degrees or so outside – or it certainly felt like it – he didn't see how she wasn't a puddle of sweat. And then she took off the jacket.

His jaw dropped. He couldn't help it.

It was that sweet little tank top number she'd worn when she attacked them that first year, after the trip to P3X-797.

(Of course, shortly afterward, they'd both turned into cavemen because of what he ended up thinking as "severe allergies to somethin' on that damn planet", but that was neither here nor there.)

And she saw him staring. And she grinned. And then she flounced – flounced! – past him, into the kitchen. He couldn't stop himself from saying to the other two, "I'm just gonna go help Carter," and then practically dashing after her.

By the time he caught up with her, she was standing in front of his sink and looking out the window. With one of his beers in hand.

It had to be the hottest thing he'd ever seen.

"Uh, Carter?" he said, after coughing awkwardly. Why did I cough? It's my damn house, forcryin'outloud!

Shut up, the voice said. She's wearing the tank top! A number of images paraded through his mind, most of them involving him removing said tank top, but he quickly banished those to the space in his mind currently titled 'Break In Case Of Apocalypse (Or Goa'uld invasion, or other alien thing that Carter can't solve, God forbid' with smaller letters reading 'WARNING:

Contents Under Pressure!'

He gulped.

"Yes sir?" she said. She sounded so innocent. And then she turned around. She was smiling. Mischievously.

Oh shit, he thought. I'm in for it.

"Uh. Nice… shirt." If you can call it that, the voice said. Oh, she's good. She's very good.

"Thank you, sir." She smiled. It was definitely on. "I invited a friend, if you don't mind."

"A friend?" God, I hope it's not that complete ass-

"Pete, sir."

He screamed. In his mind. Out loud he said, "Well, Carter, I kinda thought it was just a team thing, but if you want to…" he shrugged. "Far be it from me to stop you. Can ya hand me a beer?" I'm seriously going to need one. Or eight. Possibly twelve. I knew I should've bought more than the twenty-four pack the other day. She handed him the desired beer.

Ugh, the voice said. Not that smarmy little suck-up stalker cop. Jack . The one and the same, he thought sourly. Blech. You should've shot him. You still could! He could be considered a national security risk, the voice offered, its tones far too helpful.

If only, he thought back at it. If only. And why are you being so damn helpful all of a sudden?

Probably because I don't like Pete either, the voice said. Don't get used to it.

Don't worry, I won't.

You should do something about it! the voice said, sounding enthusiastic. Be brave, for once. Do something. You can't lose her to… ugh… Pete

Shut up he thought back. You know I can't. It's against the regs.

Oh, fu- the voice started, but he muffled it again and focused back on what was before him.

Carter was leaning back into the fridge, and the tank top was riding up. He could swear his eyes bugged out of his head. "Sweet," he whispered.

"'scuse me, sir?" she said, looking back over her shoulder.

"Oh, nothing." He turned away and started to chug the beer. "I'm gonna need another beer, Carter."

"Yes, sir."

"Carter?"

"Sir?"

"Did you really invite…" he grimaced to himself as he said the name, "…Pete?"

"Uh, yes, sir. But he said he couldn't make it til four, since he's working."

"Ah. Right." He paused. "Carter?"

"Yes sir?" She was standing beside him, helping him form hamburger patties.

"Is it too late to un-invite him?" He poked a patty into submission. Success! He was the Lord of the Burgers.

Thank God! the voice crowed. Finally, he does something, ladies and gentlemen!

"No, I don't think it is, sir," she said, smacking a particularly thick patty until it was her desired thickness.

"Good. Uh, well. Um." He hesitated, and winced at how stupid he sounded.

"Sir, if I may?" Was it him, or was she inching towards him?

"Go ahead, Carter." Seriously, was she getting closer, or was this beer a little stronger than he thought?

"Are you… asking me to un-invite Pete?" Her eyes flicked up at him.

"Well. Uh. Uhm. Yes." Okay, he wasn't drunk enough to confuse physical contact and her hip was grazing his. Slightly.

"Oh, well. All right." And now the hip was pressed up against his. He swallowed.

"Good. Good. Um. I'm- I'm going to go check on the grill." He grabbed the plate of burgers and she smiled.

"I'll be right out, sir. After I call Pete."

The day actually turned out nicely – it ended up raining (Jack knew it was because he prayed for it to rain, just to get Carter covered up) and they stayed inside where Teal'c tried to get them to play Monopoly, and then watch Star Wars, but they really ended up teasing Daniel about not having a girlfriend and hypothesizing what kind of woman he needed.

All in all, he thought, it was a good day.

It was about to get better.

Once Daniel and Teal'c left, it was just him and Carter. She'd gone outside to finish saying something to Daniel and had forgotten her jacket, so now she was sitting on his couch, drinking his beer, in a (wet) sweet little tank top.

Antarctica, Antarctica, Antarctica, he repeated to himself.

KISS HER, the voice screamed at him. She's asking for it!!!!!

He viewed the multiple exclamation points as unnecessary.

"So." She moved over to sit next to him and turned to face him.

"So." He fidgeted nervously with his beer bottle.

She put her drink down – she'd quit the beer after her third, which had been his fifth – and looked at him. He might've resisted.

If she hadn't licked her bottom lip like that.

"Oh, to hell with it," he muttered.

Then he dropped his beer bottle onto the floor and slid his other hand around her neck and pulled her face to his. And then he proceeded to kiss the living daylights out of her.