Happy Hour
Happy Hour
by havocthecat
Summary: Half the base is out celebrating. Sam and Jack are drunk, and think about things that they can't have, and what they can.
Category: Romance, Other
Season: any Season
Pairing: Jack/Sam
Rating: FAM
Warnings: none
Disclaimer: Stargate SG-1 and its characters are the property of Showtime/Viacom, MGM/UA, Double Secret Productions, and Gekko Productions. This story was created for entertainment purposes only. No copyright infringement is intended. The original characters, situations, and story are the property of the author(s).
Archived on: 09/05/06
***
"I'm drunk," said Sam. She blinked and looked around the room. The party for Connor's promotion to Captain was still going strong, even if she happened to be losing it. "I'm very drunk." After all, she was sitting next to her CO and telling him how drunk she was. She was going to be awfully embarrassed in the morning.
"I know you are, Carter," said Colonel O'Neill, enunciating very slowly and very carefully. On the other hand, since he looked to be pretty drunk himself, maybe he'd forget what they were talking about and she wouldn't have to worry about making an idiot of herself.
"You're drunk too, sir." Sam giggled. "Why are we drunk?" She blinked owlishly at Daniel, who had some linguist or another in the corner and was arguing with her over some linguistic thing or another. He was gesturing wildly and sloshing punch on his shirt. She wasn't going to be the only one embarrassed in the morning, thank God.
"I'm not sure," said the Colonel, trying to stand. "Whoa," he said, putting a hand out to steady himself. Colonel Jack O'Neill, ex-Special Forces and current second in command of the entire Stargate Command, was not holding his liquor.
Sam giggled again. Well, it was funny. She'd apologize tomorrow, when they were sober. "How much did we have to drink?" Sam looked down at the glass of punch in her hand. "I switched to punch hours ago."
He blinked. "You know, I don't remember." He took another sip of punch, and stared down at it. "Does this punch taste funny to you, Carter?"
"Oh, God," said Sam. "Someone spiked the punch!" She set her glass down on the counter and frowned at it. "Someone spiked the punch and got me drunk. That's not fair."
"Uh-oh," said Jack. "Just how much of that punch have you had, hm?"
"A lot." Sam fumbled for her keys. "Oh." She sighed mournfully and put them back in her purse. "So I guess driving would be a bad idea, wouldn't it, sir?"
"No, no, that would be a bad idea." Jack peered out the window. "Hey, there's a cab. Wanna go take someone's cab, Carter?"
Well, she hadn't been planning on staying the night at Captain Connor's house, which meant that stealing someone's cab out from under their noses was the right thing to do. Or maybe it wasn't, but neither was spiking the punch when she was planning on getting up early the next morning and working in her lab. "Sounds good to me, sir," she said, grinning mischeviously.
They stumbled out the door and into the cab ahead of Lou Feretti and the rest of SG-2. It had taken some maneuvering--and a lot of laughter--but they'd managed to take them by surprise.
"Your place first or mine, Carter?" asked Jack. No answer. "Carter?"
She was too tired to talk. It'd be okay if she just rested a bit and pretended she'd fallen asleep with her head on his shoulder. It wasn't like he was gonna mind. It was Jack. Colonel O'Neill. Her commanding officer, but she really was too tired to care right now. It wasn't not like their non-relationship relationship wasn't confusing enough right now anyway.
"My place," he said decisively, then tapped the glass to get the driver's attention.
***
"Come on, Carter," said Jack, shaking her as they pulled into the driveway. She'd really conked out on him the instant she got into the cab.
"Mmmmm," murmured Carter. That was it. There was no way he was sending Carter home alone in that condition. For one thing, he really wanted to see her in the morning when the hangover set in. Maybe he could even wheedle breakfast out of her. Or maybe he'd make breakfast if he woke up first. Or maybe they would be so hungover they'd skip breakfast. He might be able to handle lunch.
"Let's get you to sleep," said Jack, contorting as he tried to reach into his pocked for money without waking Sam up. He managed to pull some cash out and tossed it at the cabdriver. "Keep the change, pal," he said, opening the door and bracing one foot against the driveway as he leaned Carter against him and proceeded to try and get out without waking her up too much. "And you, Major I'm So Responsible I Accidentally Got Drunk Anyway..." It was a good thing she was asleep. She'd kill him if she ever heard him joking like that. He got her out of the cab and vaguely upright. "Time to go."
It took some maneuvering, but he managed to get the keys out of his pocket, the door open, and then closed behind them and locked again. Jack stared at the stairway and sighed.
"Gonna be miserable in the morning," mumbled Sam, her eyes still closed.
"Come on, Carter," said Jack, flinging one of her arms around his shoulders and stumbling toward the stairs. He had a banister. He could do this.
At least Carter was awake enough to help him out. A bit. She stumbled here and there, but so did he, and since they didn't take any major spills, Jack figured that they'd be okay. Right?
"Gonna be really miserable in the morning," she mumbled, once he'd gotten her into his bedroom and standing--sort of wobbling back and forth, actually--in front of his bed.
"You and me both," said Jack. He put his arms on her shoulders and gently pushed her back onto the bed, then sat down heavily next to her, propped her foot on his knee, and started unlacing her boots.
Sam blinked up blearily at him. It looked like the fall had woken her up a bit. "We're in your house," she said.
"Yep," said Jack. It was his house. As a matter of fact, it was his bedroom. Maybe she wouldn't notice that little fact.
No such luck. "Where will you sleep?" asked Sam. Well, that was what Jack figured she'd tried to say, but she'd slurred it a little more than that. It was actually kinda cute watching Carter be so sleepy. She was almost never that out of it.
"I've got a couch," Jack, pulling off her left boot. Or was it the right? Did it matter? He was gonna get up and go downstairs and probably not break his neck since he wasn't trying to navigate anyone down the stairs, and then he was gonna sleep on the couch. Probably in his boots. He really didn't think he could handle pulling off two pairs of boots in one night.
"I can't kick you out of your bed," said Sam, struggling up and leaning on her elbows. There was no way he was going to let her up in this kind of condition. She needed the sleep.
"Don't worry," said Jack, blinking at a particularly tough knot. "I'll be fine." Oh, hey, it wasn't that tough after all. He was just drunk. Which he knew. He pulled off the other boot and tossed it in the corner.
"Sir..." She was about to protest. Uh-uh. Time to head that off at the pass.
"No, no, it's okay, Sam," said Jack, standing up. "It's a very comfy couch."
Her hand closed around his wrist and pulled him back down onto the bed. Jack stared into the eyes of a very drunk, very sleepy, incredibly out of it Sam Carter who would never do this if she were sober. "Sleep," she whispered, closing her eyes and pillowing her head on her arm.
Jack sighed. Carter could be a very determined woman when she wanted something, and he just didn't have the energy to fight it at the moment. He was gonna kill whoever spiked the punch. Thank God General Hammond had gone home hours before. On the other hand, it would've been kinda fun to see George get drunk. But not as fun as it was gonna be to tear some practical joker into strips.
Tomorrow.
He closed his eyes and went to sleep.
***
Light streamed in through the windows. Sam stirred and opened her eyes. Then she winced. Oh. God. The party. Last night. She vaguely recalled making a total fool of herself at the party, babbling at some incredibly non-technical staffer about her ongoing experiments with naquadah and then-- Wasn't there something about a cab? And Feretti?
And now she was lying--fully clothed, at least--at Colonel Jack O'Neill's house, on Jack O'Neill's bed, and, God help her, in Jack O'Neill's arms. Colonel Jack O'Neill. Her CO. Also the guy she happened to be in love with. Sam sighed. Too bad this wasn't an alternate universe. On the other hand, both of the alternate universes where she and Jack had been, um, together... Engaged in one, married in the other. Well, those universes hadn't had the happiest of endings, now had they? Too bad things weren't different here, then.
She sighed and placed a light kiss on Jack's forehead. He was asleep. She could maybe get away with it. She'd just have to make do with what she had--which was pretty good.
Jack was smiling in his sleep. Well, she hoped he was asleep. If he wasn't, she knew he'd have the good sense to pretend he was for at least another half an hour--long enough for her to slip out of his arms and hit the shower and get cleaned up and recover from the incredibly intense embarrassment she was feeling. Maybe she'd wait for him to wake up too and see if he wanted to go out and get breakfast.
It would help cure a hangover. She had a medical excuse to spend time in Colonel O'Neill's company, which was a good thing.
Yeah, what they had was good. Except that she would really kill for some aspirin right now.
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