Jack pulled into Sam's driveway, his mind racing with what he was going to say to her. He had finally decided to take Daniel's advice and talk to Sam, not as her commanding officer, but as... well, as Jack. He sighed, feeling the weight of the conversation ahead. As he approached the house, he noticed a familiar figure standing on her doorstep.
Pete.
Jack's grip tightened on the steering wheel. Great. Just what I needed. He took a deep breath, trying to quell the surge of jealousy and annoyance bubbling up inside him. Of all the times for Pete to show up...
He got out of his truck and walked towards the house, his expression carefully neutral. Pete turned around at the sound of Jack's footsteps, his eyes narrowing slightly.
"General O'Neill," Pete greeted, a forced casualness in his voice.
"Shanahan," Jack replied, equally terse.
Pete shifted uncomfortably. "I, uh, came to get my things. Thought it was about time."
Jack raised an eyebrow. "Right. Your things."
Pete's eyes flicked to the house, then back to Jack. "Is Sam expecting you?"
Jack smirked, but it didn't reach his eyes. "Not exactly. But then again, I don't need an appointment."
Pete's jaw tightened. "Look, I know you and Sam are close. But whatever's going on between you two—"
"Stop right there, Pete," Jack interrupted, his voice low and dangerous. "Whatever's going on between Sam and me is none of your business."
Pete's eyes flashed with suspicion. "It's Sam now? So there is something going on."
Jack shrugged, his expression infuriatingly nonchalant. "Like I said, none of your business."
Before Pete could respond, the door opened, and Sam appeared, her eyes widening in surprise at the sight of the two men on her doorstep.
"General? Pete? What are you both doing here?" she asked, her voice tinged with a mix of confusion and concern.
Jack gave her a lopsided grin. "Hey, Carter. Just thought I'd drop by for that chat. Didn't realize you had company."
Pete cleared his throat, trying to regain his composure. "I was just here to pick up my things, Sam. And maybe... talk."
Sam sighed, clearly exasperated by the situation. "Alright, Pete. I'll get your stuff. Just... wait here."
As Sam disappeared back into the house, the silence between Jack and Pete grew heavier. Jack leaned against the porch railing, his eyes fixed on a spot in the distance.
"So, Pete," Jack began, his tone dripping with sarcasm, "how's life treating you these days?"
Pete scowled. "Cut the crap. I know you never liked me."
Jack chuckled, a dark, humorless sound. "Well, at least we agree on something."
Pete opened his mouth to retort, but Sam reappeared, carrying a box of Pete's belongings. She handed it to him, her expression unreadable.
"Here you go, Pete. I hope this clears everything up," she said, her tone firm but kind.
Pete took the box, his shoulders slumping slightly. "Thanks, Sam."
Sam nodded, her eyes softening a fraction. "Take care, Pete."
With one last glance at Jack, Pete turned and walked to his car, the tension slowly dissipating as he drove away.
Jack watched him go, then turned to Sam, his expression softening. "You okay?"
Sam sighed, leaning against the doorframe. "Yeah. Just... wasn't expecting that."
Jack nodded. "Me neither. But hey, at least we got that out of the way."
Sam chuckled softly. "Yeah. So, what did you want to talk about?"
Jack took a deep breath, steeling himself. "Can we go inside? This might take a while."
Sam nodded, stepping aside to let him in. "Sure."
As they walked into the house, Jack couldn't help but feel a mix of relief and anticipation. This is it. Time to lay it all out on the table.