Jack brushes his full hand over his eyes and forehead as he contemplates the options available to him in a grocery aisle designated for "baking needs." He'd promised Cassie that he'd provide something for her little league hockey team's bake sale, but has so far been unable to settle on what that something will be. He idly pokes at a bag of all purpose flour and turns his eyes toward the dazzling array of sprinkles which leads to him noticing a very familiar blonde cradling the handles of a shopping basket in her lovely arms.

"Carter!" He grins and waves at her, admiring her quick transition from startled to amused. He tries not to glow when he sees that special-only-for-him smile make its appearance.

"Hello, Sir."

"What brings you to baking needs?" he asks, curling his fingers into air quotes.

"I'm guessing the same thing that brings you. Do you maybe know a little redhead with big puppy dog eyes whose hockey team wants jackets?"

"You know what, Carter, I know just the little scamp." He grins and holds out a hand to take her basket, realizing for the first time he hadn't thought to grab one for himself. "Wanna team up?"

"Sure, Sir," she says, handing the basket over. "What do you have in mind?"

"I haven't decided, yet, so I can be persuaded to do almost anything."

"Hmm, almost anything?"

"Hard almost there, Carter, if you try talking me into something healthy I'm out; the kids will remember that shit and egg our cars at the next game."

"I would never ask you to bake healthy cupcakes."

"So we're doing cupcakes?" Jack considers this as he watches her poke the same bag of all purpose flour he'd bothered earlier. "Can they be chocolate?"

"Sure."

"With chocolate frosting?"

She laughs. "Sure, Sir."

"And for the second thing?"

"Lemon bars?"

"Ah yes, children love lemon bars."

"The adults who will be buying the desserts might."

"Carter, since we're gonna get the little paper cups anyway, can we do mini cheesecakes?"

"Because children love cheesecake, sir?"

"More than fruit bars."

"All right, mini cheesecakes it is."

When Jack reaches for a box of chocolate cake mix, Sam pushes his hand aside with a furrow in her brow. She instead fills the basket with scratch cake ingredients, telling him baking is chemistry and they'll do it the right way. He nods and follows her through the many aisles as they find what they need. When she reaches for a box of graham crackers for the crust, he gently touches her wrist to stop her and smiles. "My mom made the crust with shortbread cookies. Can we do that?" She beams at him and tugs his sleeve down the aisle until they find cookies and he can select the right ones.

By the time they have everything, Jack wishes she'd brought a cart down that baking needs aisle and not the little basket now cutting off the blood supply against the crook of his elbow. He survives through the checkout process but is then burdened with paper bags instead, although at least now he has help.

"Your place or mine, Sir?"

He chokes on his own breath for a moment as he imagines the phrase meaning something else, but he recovers in time to suggest his place because it's closer to the market and also he knows he has his favorite beer and her favorite wine. And his kitchen is bigger. She agrees. They stow the groceries in his truck cab and she hops into her cute little Volvo to follow him home, as if she doesn't know the way.

Baking with Sam is the most fun Jack has had the entire year. At least, that's what he thinks as he's watching her try not to laugh-cry as he pretends to clean the flour off his face but only makes it worse, repeatedly. He assumes the wine and beer help, but mostly they're just fun together, and he loves it. It's so natural, so easy. They aren't trying to be anything but themselves, and it's glorious and magical and fun. He wants to kiss her.

Their fingers linger against each other when he hands her the pint glass to tamp down the cheesecake crusts in the little paper cups. The smell of the smashed up Chessman cookies in butter and a little salt takes him back to boyhood, and he can't help running a long finger through the bowl of it. Sam swats his hand away so he brings the pilfered bit of loose crust on his fingertip up to her lips and-he can't believe he does this or understand why he thought he should-pushes it into her mouth.

Time stops just briefly enough for both of them to register that his finger is in her mouth, that her tongue is lapping against it to taste the crumbs, and that they're both still on Earth in their own reality. Jack has the decency to look shocked by himself, and Sam blushes but also smiles around his finger all the way up to her eyes.

"Uh, sorry," he says in the most clumsy way he's ever said anything, including the first time he'd done something dumb while trying to get laid as a teenager.

"It's okay," she says. She smiles sweetly and licks a bit of cookie crumb off her lower lip. "You're right; the shortbread is better."

"Oh, yeah?" is all he can manage.

The cupcakes are cooling and the cheesecakes are baking, and Jack doesn't know what to do with his hands, so he starts making the chocolate frosting. He pays way more attention to the recipe in front of him than he normally would, and Sam laughs at him in a very cute way when he tastes the payoff of a perfect chocolate buttercream. He laughs back, the tension eased, or at least he had thought so until she dipped her own elegant finger through the mixing bowl and brought it up to her lips to test it herself.

"Ooooh my god, Sir. This is amazing." He watches her wet tongue lick the last bit from her finger as his own mouth dries up completely, he assumes for eternity.

"Uh, you think so?"

"I don't even like chocolate that much, but this is so good. What did you do?"

"You add coffee, um, and it's…" he watches her try it again, and the way her eyes flash as she makes meaningful eye contact with him while her tongue is openly stroking her finger basically throws every caution or understanding about propriety or work regulations out the nearest airlock.

Then the rubber spatula is in the bowl and his hands are around her waist and his mouth is-on hers?!-and she's got her fingers threading through his hair. It's all very silly and surreal and manic and chocolatey. He can taste the frosting from the inside of her mouth being transferred to the inside of his mouth and he knows that's how he wants to die.

The scream of the cheesecake timer is like a Teal'c punch to the side of the head. They both pull away, eyes searching other eyes for an understanding of how it's going to go now that they have to notice what they did and not just keep doing it. Jack is pretty sure his heart travels the distance of his torso, out of his butt, and then up into his throat as he watches Sam's face work through the reality and end up with a pleasant grin.

"Better get those, Sir." She giggles.

He accepts the rapidly closing moment of this indiscretion to lick a bit of stray chocolate from the left corner of her mouth before removing his hands from her waist and mock saluting. "You got it, Major."

They don't talk about it. It's much easier and more fun to have a secret, even from each other for right now. This isn't the first time it's happened, and it won't be the last. But when they hear people groan over how decadent the chocolate frosting is or how perfect the cheesecake is, they don't even need to meet eyes to share the thrill of that moment again.