Notes: I'm going to put this up here, as you're going to be grinning (or cursing my name) at the end of this chapter. Ahem. Thank you all so much for the wonderful reviews! You've gotta let me know if this chapter worked for you, okay? Now that said, I have to tell you two things: 1) there will be two additional chapters in this story and 2) I won't be able to post chapter 4 until next week. Sorry! I'm heading out of town and won't have access to a laptop for at least 5 days. I'll be writing chapter 4 long-hand. Ooo. Old school! Hang in there, it'll come. Shippers rejoice. This chapter is for you!

Jack and Sam continued their easy conversation for several minutes, before lapsing into another comfortable silence, with Sam idly swirling her glass in geocentric circles, deep in thought. She looked at Jack with an expression he had never seen before. Jack returned her gaze with open curiosity. Something was obviously on Sam's mind. Jack mentally shrugged. He was content to simply sit and enjoy her company, happy that the earlier...tension was gone. Well, mostly gone.

"I have a hypothetical question for you," Sam said suddenly, startling Jack out of his thoughts. It did not go unnoticed that his favorite Lt. Colonel hadn't added 'General' or 'Sir' at the end of that sentence.

"And it is a hypothetical," Sam stressed before Jack could say anything. "You don't have to answer." If Sam's lack of military salutation hadn't gotten his attention before, the emphasis on hypothetical certainly did.

"So, I don't have to answer this hypothetical question of yours," Jack repeated with one of his patented half smiles. Carter confused him frequently, but never in a manner quite like this.

"Correct," Sam answered with a firm nod.

"Lay it on me," Jack said, lifting his tumbler and taking another sip.

Taking a deep breath, Sam began. "So hypothetically speaking, say all of SG-1 was at your house..."

"You mean like you are at least once a month when Daniel isn't off forming the Oma Desala fan club?" Jack interrupted with a smirk.

"Shush," Sam ordered. "I'm the one with the hypothetical scenario right now." Jack's eyebrows climbed nearly to his hairline. Did Samantha Carter just order him to shut up?

Jack cocked his head to one side and made a motion for Sam to continue.

"So," Sam said, continuing her scenario. "We're at your house and we're celebrating something."

"My birthday?" Jack interrupted.

"No."

"Your birthday?" he said, trying again.

"Sir," Sam said exasperated. "Just let me talk, okay?" Jack made an exaggerated gesture of zipping his lips. He had noticed that she called him Sir again.

"Let's just say, hypothetically, that we're celebrating a promotion of sorts."

"My promotion? Jack asked incredulously.

Sam shrugged. "Maybe," she conceded. "Or perhaps mine." Jack was stunned. Sure, he'd had some casual conversations with General Hammond about perhaps taking over his position as head of Homeworld Security, but he hadn't said a word about it to anyone, least of all Sam. And as for Carter, she was already CO of SG-1. As far as Jack was concerned, it didn't get any better than that.

"The point is," Sam continued, purposefully not looking directly into her commanding officer's rather expressive eyes. "Is that we are at your house, hanging out on your back deck with a couple of beers."

"Sounds like a nice night." Jack was trying to keep the conversation casual, but was totally aware of Sam's anxiety and for the life of him, could not figure out why.

"It is," Sam said softly, picking up her drink and giving it another swirl. For a moment, she lost herself in the warm amber of the liquid as it shimmered against the walls of the glass. Abruptly, she took a large sip, set the glass down with a loud clunk and then turned her body so she was completely facing Jack. Expressive eyes be damned.

"Carter, you're kind of freaking me out here."

"Sorry, Sir," Sam replied automatically, and then grimaced. She had really hoped to leave 'sir' out of this conversation.

"What I'm trying to say is that we're at your house, it's in the future and for whatever reason, I don't report to you any longer." Jack's eyebrows climbed even higher as his heart skipped a beat. Was Sam really going there?

Trying to keep it casual (and yet knowing that Sam would see through him) Jack replied with a simple, 'Okay' and waited patiently to see what she'd say next.

Sam had been filled with liquid courage as she started down this road, but now her confidence was fading. Was she really going to ask this?

Could she really ask this? Sam gave herself a mental shake.

Yep. She could.

"So we're at your house…" Sam repeated.

"On the back porch," Jack added.

"With a few beers," Sam continued.

"And there are no frat regs."

Sam bobbed her head up and down. "No frat regs," she confirmed. Her eyes darted briefly to Jack's and then down to her drink again.

"Carter…" Jack didn't want to rush her, but come on! He was literally on the seat of his stool here waiting to hear what she said next.

Taking a deep breath, Sam decided to rip off the proverbial Band-Aid and just say it.

"What would you do," Sam began, "if I, I mean, if hypothetically-speaking, we were standing side by side…" Sam's voice trailed off. She wanted to ask. She needed to ask, but it was the how to ask that was eluding her.

Jack noticed her extreme anxiety. It was so unlike her that he momentarily forgot what she was (trying) to say and reached out to put his hand over hers, giving it a supportive squeeze.

Sam smiled and bobbed her head slightly before squeezing his hand in return and then releasing it. She then picked up her drink, downed the nearly full ounce of warm bravery and turned to squarely face Jack.

"What would you do if I hypothetically leaned over and kissed you?" Sam said in a rush, her eyes never leaving Jack's own.

Jack's eyes immediately darkened. "What would I do if you hypothetically kissed me?" he repeated. Was she kidding?!

"Yes," Sam said with a firm nod.

"Oh, I'd kiss you back!" Jack replied immediately with a cat-ate-the-canary smile. "Er...I mean hypothetically, of course. If we were on my back porch, alone, with no frat regs. I'd totally kiss you."

"Really?"

"You had doubts?"

"Well…" Sam ducked her head in embarrassment as heat radiated across her face.

Jack chuckled. "Carter, I don't think anyone, least of all you and I, should have any doubts that if we were allowed to kiss we would definitely give it a go." Sam smiled.

"I supposed not," she admitted with a smile.

Before Jack could say anything more, Mick was calling out last call. Jack looked at his watch.

"Crap!" Jack exclaimed. "I had no idea it was so late. I'll go find Mick and have him order us a couple of cabs."

Sam nodded, feeling light-headed as she stood, not entirely sure if the feeling was due to alcohol or the rather startling (albeit not entirely unsurprising) revelation. "Definitely time to head home." She was proud of Jack for suggesting cabs, plural. A lot had been shared in the last few hours. She needed time to process. Not that anything could actually happen anytime soon, but still… It was awfully nice to know that after all these years, Jack was still attracted to her.

Their rides came all too quickly and Jack helped Sam put her coat on and walked her to her vehicle.

"Give me a call when you get home, okay?" he asked seriously, opening the back door for her. If he didn't think it was blatantly over protective, he would have suggested he share a cab with Carter back to her house and then continue, in the opposite direction back to his. He couldn't help it. She was his Carter and he wanted to keep her safe.

"I promise," Sam replied softly. She gave Jack a serene smile, feeling very glad that she had found the courage to find out once and for all how he felt.

Jack was just about to close the door when he suddenly leaned down and gently brushed a strand of hair away from her ear. Sam gasped slightly at the touch and was thankful her light jacket hid the goosebumps. Damn if that man didn't affect her something fierce. Jack leaned closer, his breath tickling the delicate hairs on the back of Sam's neck. He was so close, Sam could smell the heady scent of whiskey, beer and Jack O'Neill on his breath. He smelled so good, it made her head spin.

"Carter?" Jack whispered, "About that hypothetical of yours?"

"Yes?" Sam replied breathlessly.

"I'd use tongue."