A.N. Sorry for the long wait in updating - life has been unbelivably hectic. I hope you like this.
Dedicated to Rowan Temple for being unimaginably amazing.
The first thing that registered in Sam's now conscious mind was how loud her pulse was. And then, as she tried to move, how sick she was feeling. Lying there, she decided that opening her eyes or getting up would be a bad idea.
This decided, she smiled slightly, and stretched out in her bed, trying to get slightly more comfortable. When her hand met another body, however, she screamed, leapt out of bed and, just as quickly, ran to the bathroom and threw up what felt like all of last night's alcohol.
Once she finished, she weakly stood up, rinsed her mouth out with water, and made her way slowly back to bed, trying in vain to calm the pounding of her head, which had intensified due to her scream and dash just moments before. It was only when she walked back into her bedroom that she remembered what had caused her to scream, as she saw a lump under the covers.
Reaching for the nearest heavy thing she could find, which happened to be the picture frame on her bedside table, containing a picture of her and her dad in his tok'ra uniform, she said as loudly as she dared (with her headache) "Ok, who the hell are you and why are you in my house?"
The lump stirred, and as the person rolled over, she almost dropped the picture frame. With shaking hands she put it down on the table again, and asked in a quavering and disbelieving voice,
"Sir?"
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Jack looked at his second in command with a sleep-fogged brain. Why was she in his house?
Looking around he decided to rephrase that.
Why was he in her house, or, more precisely, why was he in her bed?
As he tried to force his sleep-fogged mind to think, a splitting pain caused him to groan out loud, as he felt as though his head was being cleaved in two.
Trying to sit up, his stomach contents tried to go the same way as Sam's, so he too leapt up, and ran to her bathroom to throw up.
Sam wobbly walked over to her chest of drawers, and pulled on a pair of pyjamas. Watching Jack run out of her bedroom wearing absolutely nothing had made her suddenly realise her own nakedness. Sitting down gently on the bed afterwards, still mindful of the sledgehammer pounding away in her head, she tried to figure out what was going on.
Colonel O'Neill was at her house in the morning. Very suspicious. Not good.
Colonel O'Neill had been in her bed. Also not good.
She had been in the bed too. Even worse.
They had both been naked.
Disastrous.
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Weakly, Jack sat back from the toilet, wiping a shaky hand over his mouth.
Thinking back to when he had woken up that morning, he reflected that he was felling a little better. Relaxing slightly, he then remembered that Sam, his second-in-command, had looked slightly shocked at him being there.
Jack thought this over. If he was honest with himself, he wasn't too clear about how he had got there either.
Trying to fight back another wave of nausea from the worrying feeling he was now getting his gut, he tried desperately to remember events about the night before.
He didn't remember leaving the restaurant, getting a cab. He didn't remember coming to Sam's house, entering it, or anything that might have happened afterwards.
Shit!
What if anything had happened?
He realised that, in fact, he didn't feel so great any more, and sat, leaning back against the wall, waiting for this new wave of nausea to pass.
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Finally having composed himself enough to face Sam (hopefully!), he left the bathroom, heading to her bedroom, suddenly very conspicuously aware of how naked he was. As he entered the bedroom, he realised with a slight feeling of relief that she wasn't in it.
Deciding it was his only option, he put on his boxers and trousers from last night, and realised he was smelling something wonderful – coffee. Kitchen, he realised as he slid on his shirt from last night and loosely buttoned it.
Walking out into her hallway and down to the kitchen he tried to quell his nerves at what they were going to have to talk about. He had no idea whether Sam remembered anything from the previous night, but the fact that he didn't wasn't making that possibility look good.
If she didn't remember, however, then it would lessen any worries about court-marshals or trying to stay as co-workers – in their minds and memories they wouldn't have crossed that line.
He knew she could tell when he walked into the room, even though her back was turned away, because she stiffened slightly, obviously dreading the conversation that would have to come. Despite that, she tried to pretend nothing had happened, reaching for a mug, and pouring him a cup of coffee.
After adding just a touch of milk, just the way he liked it, she looked at him for the first time since he entered the room, and handed it to him with a weak, slightly tense smile.
"So," he started, trying to break the very awkward silence that had descended over them.
"So," she answered back, trying to think of something else to say. Bracing herself to hear the answer to the question she knew she didn't want to ask, but had to know the answer to, she ploughed ahead, with the one question they were both hoping to avoid.
"Do you remember anything that happened last night?"
A.N.2/ Please review!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!