A/N: This is a little missing scene from 'The Lies You Feed Yourself' that I couldn't resist writing. This basically takes place the morning after the dance scene. Enjoy!


Jack O'Neill is dreaming.

It's a nice dream too, the sort you really don't want to wake up from. After all, he's dreaming that Sam Carter is in bed next to him, snuggled up against him close enough that he is one hundred percent certain that she is wearing absolutely nothing.

Deciding to milk this fantasy for all it's worth he lowers his face to her hair, breathing in deeply as his fingers trail down the length of her spine left exposed by the sheet that has worked its way down around her waist. She shifts under the touch, her leg moving leisurely against his, her face turning into the hollow of his shoulder. "Jack," she says, her voice slightly muffled against his skin and rough with sleep. It might just be the single sexiest thing he has ever heard.

It's a really nice dream.

And then a phone rings.

Jack squeezes his eyes shut. Of all the rotten timing… But maybe if he ignores it, it will simply go away and leave him in peace to enjoy his dream. His arms tighten around Carter, but the phone continues to ring and Carter starts to pull away.


Resigned to his fate, Jack opens his eyes, only instead of disappearing in a puff of unwelcome morning light, Carter simply rolls away, groping for the offending phone on the nightstand before finally pulling it up to her ear. "Hello?"

Her eyes scrunch for a moment like she's having a hard time understanding the person on the other end. Then she bolts up, one hand clutching the sheet to her chest as she goes. "Cassie?" he hears her ask.

Okay, so definitely not a dream then, Jack decides, because Cassie is pretty much the last thing in the universe his subconscious would work into this sort of situation, thanks be to everything holy. Of course, if this is not a dream, it can only mean one thing.

There is a naked Sam Carter in his bed.

Glancing around the unfamiliar room, he corrects himself. He is naked in Sam Carter's hotel room.


Turning his attention back to her, Jack can just make out the tinny pitch of someone speaking rapidly on the other end of the line, and whatever's being said, Carter's face has tinged pink. "Cassie!" she says again, this time half-rebuke, half-mortification. "How can you even know-"

Cassie must have cut her off. Carter's face decides to pass up pink and shoot straight for fire engine red. It's pretty impressive and before today, he never knew that Carter's blushes start a hell of a long way lower down than her neck. He pushes up on one elbow, trying to see exactly how far down it goes.

"What?" Carter exclaims. Yeah, there is a definite squeak to Carter's voice now as she shoves the covers aside, walking across the room to grab a bathrobe. Jack takes a moment to admire the show, and he's a little sad as she slides into the robe. Tying it closed with a rough jerk, Carter turns on her heel and disappears out of the room.

Deciding he should probably figure out what is going on, Jack pushes out of bed. He finds his pants in a heap on the floor next to a shimmery pile of burgundy fabric that he recognizes as Carter's dress from the night before. He picks it up off the floor and carefully folds it over the back of a chair. Looking at it, he has a pretty good idea why Cassie may have called. Pulling on his pants, he follows after Carter.

By the time he gets out into the main suite, she is nowhere to be seen. He hears the front door click shut. "Carter?" he asks.

No answer. He steps around the corner into the entryway, finding Carter standing with her back to the closed door, a newspaper in one hand. Her other hand still clutches her cell phone, but it now lists a good foot or two from her ear.

"Carter?" Jack asks again. She doesn't respond, still frozen in place.

Taking the phone from her hand, Jack lifts it up to his own ear. "Hey, Cass," he says. All he gets in response is a nearly deafening squeal. It is way too early for this. "Carter'll have to call you back when she's done having her breakdown."

Cassie snorts on the other end of the phone. "You're not off the hook yourself, mister. I expect details!"

Oh, there is no way in hell. "We'll call you back later," he promises.

"You'd better!" she says before hanging up, far too much evil gleefulness in her voice for his comfort.

Turning his attention back to Carter, who is still staring down at the paper, Jack hooks one finger over the edge, pulling it down just far enough to get a look at the front cover. He's sort of gotten used to seeing his own face all over the place, but this is something else entirely. It's a full color picture of the two of them dancing. His first reaction is surprise that it isn't an image of them actually kissing, but then he gets a better look at the photo and understands why. This one is almost more explicit in a way.

He can pretty much identify the exact moment of their conversation that it documents. In the picture he's holding her a little closer than is probably proper, one of his hands splayed across the bare skin of her back. He's leaning into her, speaking in her ear, a rather self-satisfied grin on his face. It's Carter though, that really catches his attention, not only for the way the dress flatters her figure and the light makes her hair seem to glow, but for the expression on her face. It's one he's never seen before. She has her head half-turned into his shoulder, her eyes lowered, and lips curved. She looks…radiant. Happy.

He doubts anyone needs the embarrassingly sensationalist caption (Confirmed! Love Blossoms at the Stargate Soirée!) to be able to interpret what is going on.

It's dumb, right, that even with all the events of the last twelve hours, he still hasn't really let himself believe until this picture is right under his nose. Hell, hard evidence aside, he's still having a difficult time believing he actually caused that look on her face.

"Jack," Carter says, and he realizes he's been staring a little too long.

He looks up to find her watching him with an expression he's hard pressed to define. He glances down at the paper in her hands again, wanting to memorize that look on her face. "It's a good picture," he says.

Carter tilts her head to one side, looking surprised by his response. Maybe a little relieved? "You think so?" she asks.

He gives himself a moment to look her over, her still sleep flushed skin, the way her bare toes are curling into the carpet, betraying her nervousness. He reaches out and smoothes down one particularly rebellious strand of her hair. Is it strange that, bed head and all, he's pretty sure she's never been more beautiful than she is right now?

Jack takes the newspaper from her hands and lays it on top of a small table next to them. Reaching for her waist, he draws her closer. "Yes," he says.

She drops his gaze, looking away briefly, but when she looks back up at him, God, there it is again, that look on her face. "It really is," she agrees with a smile, her hands lifting to slide around his neck.

Jack doesn't need any more of an invitation, leaning in and kissing her.

Mmm. So much better than a dream.

A loud knock at the door startles them, breaking the kiss. The knocks are quickly followed by a harried voice. "I know you're in there, Samantha Carter!"

Carter winces, her face paling a bit. "My publicist," she whispers.

If Jack isn't mistaken, Carter actually looks a little frightened. He can't count the number of ways that is wrong.

Through the door, the voice continues to rise in both volume and pitch. "A quick phone call, a small heads up, for God's sake. Is that really so much to ask?"

"Oh for…," Jack starts to say, but Carter just grabs his arm and drags him back through the living room and into the bedroom, closing the series of doors behind them as they go until they can no longer hear the indignant ranting of her publicist.

"She has to get tired eventually," Carter says, collapsing against the inside of the last door. "Right?"

Jack raises an eyebrow at her. If his own publicist is anything to judge by…leaving Earth is sounding better and better by the moment. "Exactly how soon can we leave the galaxy?" Jack asks.

He doesn't have time to interpret the expression on Carter's face because she steps up against him and kisses him. He's not sure what he's said to deserve such a response, but he'll gladly take it. His fingers have just started working on the knot at her waist when her cell phone rings. Again.

Jack's actually pretty impressed he still has it, all things considered. Pulling it out of his pocket, he glances at the number and then opens the phone just long enough to turn it off. That is a particular call he is going to avoid as long as humanly possible. He drops the phone on the bedside table and turns his attention back to Carter.

"Just to be clear," Jack says, "no matter how miserable she makes us, Cassie is in no way getting any details."

Carter's head drops against his chest with a thump. "Oh, God," she mumbles.

Jack cranes his neck enough to see down the back of her robe. Yup, that blush goes down a long way.

"If ever there was a day for just not getting out of bed," Carter says, pushing him back towards it.

He always knew Carter was a genius.