"Morning, Carter," Jack greeted her as he stepped onto the elevator. She grinned slyly and averted her eyes when he turned to stand next to her. Sleep hadn't come easily for him last night after he had said goodbye to her. He had spent half of the night reliving the feel of her, and the other half wondering if she would regret it. "How was your night?"

"Good," she answered with an attempt at an indifferent look when her face swung upward to meet his before turning forward again.

"Good. That's good." His knuckles brushed the back of her hand, seeking confirmation that they were also still good, and Jack felt her finger reach back to hook around his in a quiet acknowledgement.

"Actually, it was really good," she corrected herself with another glance up at him.

"So... no notes?" he asked with a contemplative tug of his lower lip still looking forward at the ticking numbers. "Last night. Anything you would change?"

"Nothing," she confirmed with another squeeze of his finger.

"Good," he smiled.

"Really good," she agreed, and now Jack wished he had spent more time last night remembering the feel of her, and less time worrying.

"Colonel O'Neill, Major Carter," Hammond stood just outside the elevator doors as they opened, and Sam pulled her hand back from Colonel O'Neill sharply. She didn't think Hammond had noticed, but she should have known the move was careless from the beginning. "You're just the people I wanted to see."

"Never a good sign," Jack answered suspiciously. "SG-1 is on downtime starting tomorrow, Sir."

"Yes, which is why I need you today. We have a representative from the Tok'ra coming to renegotiate a small section of our treaty with them, and as the Tok'ra have dealt almost exclusively with you, we need you to get SG-2 up to speed. Dr. Jackson is already reviewing the treaty with our government delegate. He may forego his time off if things don't go according to plan."

General Hammond had said a lot of words, but all Sam had heard was "a representative from the Tok'ra."

"Do we know who the Tok'ra are sending?" Sam asked.

"Not your father, from what I understand. Unfortunate, given that you'd have plenty of time available for a visit," General Hammond sympathized with her, and now the relief she felt made her feel guilty. Her dad showing up in the middle of this charade was the last thing that she needed, but it had been months since she had seen him. She should have wanted him to show.

"Too bad, Carter. You could have had the whole family in town," Jack told her.

"Yes, Sir," she told him with a look and he gave her a knowing raise of his brow.

Major Ferretti was really just in charge of babysitting the Tok'ra this weekend during the negotiations. It was a 'just in case' situation, but that didn't mean Sam or the rest of SG-1 could skip the briefing. Colonel O'Neill sat beside her, a little too closely, if she was objective, but she wasn't going to bring it up. He smelled even more incredible than usual today, and his closeness inspired a flutter in her chest with every inhale.

Hammond was saying something about the schedule of the negotiations now and how they were expected to start first thing tomorrow morning, but all she could think about was that tomorrow morning, she would be waking up in her bed next to Colonel O'Neill. Sam flushed at the thought and breathed deeply, but pulling his scent into her lungs didn't help at all.

Kissing him last night might have been a mistake. Maybe she had taken things too far. Surely, Mark wouldn't expect them to prove it when she told him that they were married. Kissing him had probably done more to distract her than prepare her, she admitted but only to herself.

Her dreams had played their kisses and every brush of his fingers against her skin on repeat, and she had woken this morning affected, hot, and wanting him. Remembering was making her hot now, and she reached for her water glass.

As if he could read her thoughts,Jack's hand moved from the table down to her knee. No one could see, she knew, but they could probably see the way she bumped her water glass and nearly spilled it. She recovered in time to feel his fingers squeeze reassuringly at her leg, and her eyes dropped shut for a moment too long.

It was a very good thing that this arrangement was only going to last a weekend because Sam wasn't sure she could make this work on base.

"Carter, everything all right?" Jack asked her when the briefing room had cleared. She had been antsy, uncomfortable. He was hopeful that it was because she was, like him, still thinking about that kiss and also hopeful that she would want to do it again. But the reality was that she could have just been upset about the whole situation. It was really unlike her, at least, the her that he knew to come up with something so wild to begin with, so it made sense that she would be having second thoughts.

"Yeah, everything's all right," she answered, avoiding his eyes and gathering her files.

"You sure? You seem on edge."

"Of course, I'm on edge," she answered, pinning him with a glare. And now he was really stuck. He couldn't just come out and ask why, but she was in charge. And if there was a change of plans, he needed to know.

"Should I still, uhh..."

"I'm going to head out," she told him, this time with a gentler look in her eye. "I'll see you tonight."

"Okay," he answered, choosing to trust her words. "See ya."

"That's what you're wearing to meet my brother?" Sam asked opening the door to Colonel O'Neill who was dressed in some washed out jeans and a dark long-sleeved Henley.

"What's wrong with it? I didn't want to look like I was trying too hard."

"No, no. You're right. It's fine," she answered. "Come in."

"You know, that's not a very nice greeting for a man who brought beer and who is also married to you," he admonished her.

"I said you're right. I'm sorry," she apologized before taking his beer into the kitchen. He was right. She was nervous and flustered and beginning to regret everything about this idea. Last night in the parking lot, it had seemed like the best idea she had ever had, but predictably, a good idea always haunted her with its potential for failure.

"Maybe you should have one of those," he suggested with a motion toward the bottles she was putting in the fridge. She was about to dismiss the idea when she considered for just a moment that he was right. Again. Slipping two bottles out of the carrier, she popped the tops and handed him one which he took quietly.

Sam sipped her bottle letting the bitter liquid bite at her tongue before the cool bubbles slid down her throat.

"Second thoughts?" he asked because, of course, he would notice her mood. He spent too much time with her to not notice when she was off-kilter.

"A few. Just nervous. Is this stupid?"

"Well, yeah, it is, but I already bought your fishing pole so..." Sam smiled and guffawed at his justification. Swiping her fingers through her hair in an attempt to shed some of her nerves, she set down the bottle and met his questioning eyes again. "As someone who has in fact been married, I'm pretty sure you're supposed to get cold feet before the wedding. Not after."

"I'm just thinking that this is an awful lot of trouble to avoid a blind date, and maybe... maybe it's not so much about avoiding the blind date because you're right. God, I keep saying that, don't I? You're right. I could just tell Mark 'no.' I could tell him that I'm happy, and that I'm not interested in whatever buddy he's got for me, but I can't. Because all the men in my family are so... they're just so..." Sam growled her frustration and leaned heavily on the counter, unable to pin down the exact trait that crawled under skin.

"Over-bearing? Over-protective? Over-wrought? Meddlesome know-it-all's?" Jack offered a little too happily.

"Are you sure you've never met my brother?" she asked.

"Just your dad," he teased, and really, he shouldn't be poking fun at her dad when he wasn't here to defend himself. But her dad being here to defend himself was not something they could afford this weekend.

"Fair. Although, he's gotten better. Imagine Jacob without Selmak."

"Huh. So, you're not changing your mind?"

"No. We're doing this. Just so I can tell Mark to stuff it without the vague look of judgement on his face."

"Okay. Is that what you're wearing?" he asked, tipping his beer bottle toward her body. Sam looked down and her mouth quirked up in embarrassment. Her oversized t-shirt fell to her mid-thigh, completely covering her shorts. She wasn't so nervous she had forgotten pants, but from his view she could certainly see why he was asking.

"I'm wearing shorts."

"To meet your brother?"

"No, now. I'm not... I have... never mind. I'm going to go change."

"Okay," he smiled again, thoroughly enjoying her embarrassment. "Don't change too much though. This is fun."