Disclaimer: Disclaimer: GECKO, MGM, SHOWTIME OWN THE TEAM JACK AND SAM AND THE SGC AND THAT FACILITY IS REALLY PROPERTY OF THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA MILITARY. I own my story.

Note: If you want his dinner recipe, e-mail Jan.

Dating, Jack style
Copyright by Anthony C Docimo and Jan Monroe, July 24, 1999

A date, she had agreed to a date. He knew that the equipment inspection was unlikely. He laughed to himself. This was the first time in his life that he talked about sex in such diplomatic terms or was that military terms. He like the idea that they were already speaking in their own private code.

He stopped abruptly in the hall. A date at his place...he suddenly realized that he had so much work to do. He didn't want his new 'wife' to think he was a slob. His joke about clean closets with Daniel wasn't nearly as funny now. Daniel didn't collect ordinary stuff, he collected books and artifacts. Parts of his apartment looked like a museum store room. unfortunately, Jack knew what his house looked like. It was dirty. The last month had been non-stop work and his housekeeping which was marginal at the best of times had suffered.

He thought about this date and how to get ready for it. He quickly designed his plan of attack. Shopping, cleaning and cooking in that order. What to get for dinner? His kitchen had the 'old mother Hubbards' syndrome...bare shelves. What would Sam like for dinner? They had know each other for three years but most of their dining together had been out of MRE and on poker night. He knew she hated mystery meat that the manufactures of the MRE laughingly called chopped steak. He knew that she hated Sausage and pepperoni on the same pizza. Beyond that he was lost. He picked his all time trustworthy safety meal. Only an idiot could ruin it, or someone that could burn water. Pasta with tomato and sweet Italian sausage.

He looked at his watch, three and a half hours to get everything done. He knew that they would be going out for a couple of days and that the written reports weren't due until 12 hundred tomorrow. When he joined the air force he had dreamed of flying, but in truth he spent more of his career doing paper work. More time with paper than he had ever spent in planes or battle fields. He did something that he normally would never think of doing, slipping out of work early.

Shopping went quicker than he anticipated however the checkout lines were long and he lost more than a hour at the store. The one area of the store that did intimidate him was the condoms area. He hadn't bought condoms in twenty years, all the choices and variation were scary. The selection included rubbed, contoured, and many others but the neon-glow in the dark one mystified him. If you wanted to see what was going on than you left the lights on, why glow in the dark? His boy scout days had taught him to be prepared but even he knew that that purchase was not being prepared but went more along the lines of wishful thinking.

Getting home and putting away the food was easy, finding the floor of the living room was another matter. It had three separate lay of newspapers. His bad habit of laying the paper on the end of the couch and then pushing it off to watch TV had finally caught up with him.

He pulled the dirty sheets off his bed and started picking up the dirty clothes. He now had a tactical decision to make to do it or hid it. He decided to start it but realized that he couldn't get it done in time so he hid the rest in the spare bedroom.

Sam showed up for dinner exactly on time.

"Afternoon," he said, opening the door. Sam? Carter? How best to go about this. Ick, this was awkward. He'd forgotten how hard dating could be.

"You okay?" Sam asked, as she walked into Jack's house. Jack? O'Neill? How best to go about this?

That night was the start of their personal relationship. No tour of inspection was held that night but things had changed. However by the end of the evening Jack did have high hopes for the future.