Dress Blues by AndromedaMarine

Author's Note: Short story involving dress blues. Warning: contains innuendo. (evil grin...)

Jack shifted the truck into park and checked the time: 19:53. He shrugged to himself, hopped out of the cab, and strolled up to Samantha Carter's front door, finger out and almost against the doorbell when the front entrance swung open as if a mighty gale had blown in. Sam's golden-blonde hair made it seem like a halo encompassed her face, and for a moment Jack forgot the English language. She'd opened the door in nothing but a tight-fitting spaghetti strap tank top and a pair of Jack's own boxer shorts.

"You're not going in that, I hope," he managed to say after finding his voice. "Though if you want to stay in tonight I don't object." He grinned and stood at mock attention. "Lieutenant-Colonel Samantha Carter, where are your dress blues?"

"I'm not wearing them," she said simply, swiveling around marching back into the bowels of the house. Jack quickly followed.

He shut the door behind him and tutted. "Ah, ah, ah. This is a formal event hosted by the Air Force, Sam. It's expected for every officer to wear dress blues."

She shot a glare back at him. "That's exactly what I have. Dress blues." She sat down at her dining room table, crossing her arms. "I don't have a single damn one to wear."

Jack frowned. "You don't have your dress blues? Are they back on the base?"

Sam met his gaze, a confused expression stretched across the muscles of her mouth. "Jack, what are you talking about?"

He gestured to his own getup of nice dress blues. "The female version of what I'm wearing... What are you talking about?"

"The event starts at 2030 hours, Jack, and I don't have any dresses to choose from that I can wear to this thing!" She shot a glare down the hall to her bedroom door, which was open, and beyond which lay on her bed a pile of sun dresses, summer dresses, business dresses, sexy dresses, conservative dresses, but no ball gown dresses. "I have the dress blues!"

Jack, finally catching on to her use of the two words, tossed his hat onto the table and pulled up a chair. "Samantha, we don't have to go."

"General Landry wants us to."

"General Landry doesn't have to know why we don't go." He ran a hand through his silvery hair. "For all I care we can tell him we got snowed in."

Sam scoffed. "In June?"

"I never said it had to be a good excuse." Jack smiled at her. "Besides, I think you look better in what you're wearing right now."

A red tinge swept across Sam's cheeks. "You're only saying that because you want your boxers back."

"I wouldn't mind stealing that tank top of yours, either."