Alternatives

All Us

Based upon Stargate: SG-1

Rating: PG

- JOR - Based upon Season Nine, and set somewhere around "Deus Ex Machina" to "Collateral Damage" in a possibly slightly altered reality.

- . - - - . -

"Okay," Carter said, causing Jack to look up from his steak. "I have to ask." He waited patiently for her brain actually form the words. "Is this a date?"

He thought for a second, not knowing how to answer and genuinely not knowing the answer to the question. "I don't know." He put down his fork, and decided to play it safe. "Do you want it to be a date?"

"Do you?"

He smirked, he wasn't going to let her get away with that one. "I asked you first."

Sam looked around a little, thinking. "I haven't called you 'Sir' yet," she replied tactfully.

"Yes, I noticed that." He had noticed that. She hadn't called him 'Sir' all evening. It was a simple 'Hi,' when she picked him up and she had been avoiding pronouns all through dinner.

Her brow furrowed, unsure of how to take that comment. "Noticed as in 'Finally, she's not calling me Sir,' or 'Carter's being pretentious by not calling me Sir.'"

He pretended to consider it for a second, but answered when she gave him a deadpan glare. "The first one -- obviously the first one."

"So . . . Is this a date?"

Jack shrugged. "Let's avoid labeling things. If it goes well we'll call it a date, if it turns a little weird we'll go back to the awkward thing we've been doing for the past nine years." He wanted it to be a date, but was afraid of the title. If it was a date, it could end badly. If it was just two friends having dinner while one was in town . . .

She laughed, obviously seeing through him. "Sounds like a plan to me, Sir."

- . - . -

After dinner Sam drove him back to the hotel he was staying at while he was in the Springs. She turned off the car in the parking lot and they stared at the building for a moment.

"So was this a date?" he asked after a few seconds of slightly awkward silence.

She turned to look at him and smiled. "I think it was." It had certainly gone well enough for it to have been a date.

"Good," he said, "'cause then I can do this." He leaned over the console and kissed her lips softly. When he pulled away from her they were both smiling.

Sam looked around a little, seemingly searching for something.

"What?" he asked, his smile fading.

"No alien viruses, alternate realities, time loops, or hallucinations?"

His smile returned with a vengeance. "Nope, that one was all us."

"All us," she repeated quietly.

"Goodnight, Carter," he said, reaching for the door handle.

She quickly hit the lock, and he turned back to her. He stared as she, for the second time that evening, tried to form words. "You don't have to stay here tonight," she said quietly.

"But this is where my jammies are," he said. He was trying to protect her, she knew. He was letting her know that he knew exactly what she meant and he was giving her a way out right there.

She knew exactly what she was offering; nine years was a very long time. "The offer stands." She thought about making a remark about him not needing pajamas, but decided to keep her mouth shut and avoid embarrassing herself.

He leaned over the console again, allowing the kiss to linger this time. "This really how you want to end our first date?"

She knew what he really wanted; he was playing the devil's advocate because he knew her. He knew that she was usually such a cautious person . . . She nodded. "Yeah, I'm sure."

"Alright," he kissed -- lightly -- again. "Drive on, Carter."

She shot him a quick look as she started her car again.

"Sam," he corrected. "Drive on, Sam."

- . - - - . -