Summary: Jack's non-existent birthday turns into a very low-key one, thanks to Sam. Sam, Jack and pie in his office. Walter makes a cameo. My attempt at a sweet, but not too fluffy Sam/Jack story, more friendship than romance.

Setting: After Threads, but before the end of season eight. I suppose it could go somewhere else, but that's where I pictured it.

Disclaimer: Stargate SG-1 and the characters are the property of Gekko Film Corp, Double Secret Productions and MGM/UA. No infringement of copyright or trademark is intended.

Pie

by Sini

Sam scrunched up her nose as she surveyed the selection of foods on offer in the mess hall. Not much was left at this time of the night on a Saturday. There was some stale salad in a sad pile on her right, a few sandwiches on the shelf above them, and some pastries lying haphazardly on a plate beside them. The sight was not the most appealing, but thankfully she was not going to risk eating any of them. Her eyes traveled behind the display counter and lit up when they landed on an innocuous plastic box on a small table next to the kitchen door. Stuck onto the lid there was a bright green post-it note with 'Col. Carter' scribbled on it.

"There you are," Sam muttered and retrieved the box, briefly peering inside. "Perfect," she said approvingly and closed the lid.

She reached for a clean tray, absently biting her tongue as she continued to gather the things she needed; a pair of plates, a couple of forks, lastly pouring two cups of coffee that was still relatively hot. The Stargate Command mess hall might have almost nothing left food-wise, but there was always coffee for those who needed it. It really was the driving force of the base. Only a few knew the amount of money that was reserved for the caffeination of the personnel in the monthly budget, but everyone could work out it was a significant sum even for an operation such as the Stargate program.

Sam picked up two cubes of sugar and dropped them into one of the cups before picking up the tray. With an approving glance at the two huge slices of pie on their respective plates, she left the commissary.

Letting herself enjoy the quiet, she walked along the familiar corridors. She'd never admit it, but she didn't always work insane hours of overtime just because of the work. Despite the grey concrete and offensively colored wiring and piping, the SGC was her favorite place to be, and as far as spending time with family and friends went, they were at the base as much as she was. Twenty-four hours ago she had been sat in Daniel's lab, talking about this and that while he wrote a late mission report, and she worked on a new and improved dialing program. Teal'c had dropped in and the three of them had ended up sitting around Daniel's desk until Jack had joined them as well.

Exiting the elevator, Sam crossed paths with Sergeant Harriman, who eyed the tray knowingly.

"Is Gener—"

"General O'Neill is in his office," Harriman supplied. "I'd advice you to get there quickly, his mood is less than pleasant," he added with a grim, yet oddly mischievous smile, and pushed the elevator button.

"'Night, Walter," Sam said with a mock glare, the tiniest of smiles giving her away.

"Good night, Colonel Carter," Walter replied as the elevator doors shut.

Sam turned on her heels and headed towards the briefing room. Once at the doorway, she saw the light in General O'Neill's office and stopped to look at him for a moment. He looked tired and machine-like, but she could still see the spark in his eyes, even when he thought he had lost it. Even now, he wasn't miserable. If he was, then she would know, and he would not be in that office, but far gone doing something else completely. He was tapping his pen against the table in a steady rhythm, no doubt clueless he was doing it.

With a puff of air as she exhaled, Sam crossed the briefing room to gently knock on his door that was ajar.

"Hey Sir," she said, poking her head through the opening. "Is this a bad time?"

"Carter!" exclaimed Jack, suddenly much more awake. "You know full well you're welcome any time."

"I know," Sam admitted, "but I still think it's rude to just storm in."

"I do it all the time," Jack said.

"My point exactly," she smirked, adding a quick 'sir' at the end for good measure.

"Oi," Jack sighed dramatically, leaning back in his chair. Sam was still half outside his door, and his eyes landed on her. "Are you coming in, or were you just leaving?" he asked.

Sam gave the door a push with her elbow and stepped inside. Jack straightened in his chair when he saw the tray with coffee. And pie. Sam walked up to his desk and Jack shifted some of the folders and papers, frowning at a half-eaten cookie that he found hiding under a form he had forgotten to review a few hours earlier.

"Just put it there," he finally said, deciding the spot was clear enough.

Sam chuckled and dragged one of the chairs closer to the desk.

"I know you said you were going to take us out to dinner next week, but I wanted to do something today," she said as she handed Jack his pie. "Happy birthday, sir," she said with the sweetest smile she could muster.

Jack regarded Sam with great affection. Where would he be without the woman sitting opposite him? Here she was, sitting in a dingy office with him on a Saturday night, well after her working hours. His life was anything but bad.

"Thank you," he said, not as poignantly as he could have, but he figured Sam knew what he meant, how much he appreciated her effort.

"No problem, sir," Sam assured him, driving her fork into the pie, "but you might want to give Sid your thanks the next time you see him in the mess hall."

Jack raised his eyebrows, and then dug into his piece of pie. "Ah, he used the good stuff," he acknowledged as the full taste of chocolate filled his mouth. Sam nodded, and ate another forkful of the delicious desert.

The pair exchanged the latest happenings both inside and outside the mountain, exchanging a few words on the latest rumors that had begun circulating around the corridors. Thank goodness the SGC didn't have an actual water cooler - no one would ever get any work done. Jack recounted the ever-growing saga of Daniel getting caught making googly eyes with one of the canteen workers the previous Monday, when in fact he had had an eye infection, his eye constantly itching and bothering him. Add a few bystanders, one of whom thought he was hitting on the woman, and bam! The rumor mill got enough fuel to last until the end of the month.

"Daniel almost asked me to get him his coffee," Sam said as she scraped her plate.

"I do sympathize," Jack said, "but not enough to stop being amused by the whole situation," he continued with a mischievous gleam in his eye.

Sam laughed. "It's good to know the Daniel I met eight years ago isn't completely gone."

"Yes, good ol' Daniel," Jack concurred. "Teal'c's not fazed at all, or so he says. I saw him quirk that eyebrow, and I swear the right corner of his mouth curled upward."

"The famous phantom of a smile, huh?"

"I swear it exists," Jack pondered, while Sam continued to laugh at his antics.

Before too long, the pair were sipping the last of their coffee, and Jack sighed contentedly. If he was honest with himself, he had forgotten all about his birthday until the late afternoon, after which he had momentarily been miffed that no one had said a word. Of course it was then that he realized not too many people knew, and he had informed his former team mates there'd be no celebration bar a dinner at O'Malley's next Friday. After saying good bye to Teal'c who left to visit Dakara early that evening, he found a fresh cup of coffee with a small cinnamon bun waiting on his desk, no doubt placed there by Walter. The man was a treasure.

Sam began to load the used plates and cups back onto the tray, picking up a few crumbs off the table with her thumb.

"Leave it," Jack told her.

Sam's eyebrows lifted up for a fraction of a second, and she withdrew her hand. They both knew their lovely half-hour had come to a close.

"I declare the day to be over," Jack said, stretching his hands above his head. "And you're calling it a day too, right Carter?"

Sam recognized the tone of his voice immediately. It was the go-sleep-or-I'll-bar-your-lab tone that he had used many times before. Mind you, he had never actually followed through with it.

"Of course, sir. I'll just take these back to the mess," Sam said, gesturing towards the used tableware and drawing the tray closer to her side of the desk.

"Ack, forget it," Jack protested, and grabbed the tray. "You've done your bit. I'll take it there in the morning."

"You mean you'll have Walter take it there," Sam offered with a grin.

"Pragmatics…" said Jack tersely as he stood up from his seat, Sam following suit.

Sam managed to take a few steps toward the door before Jack appeared in her path. An ephemeral flare of uncertainty crossed his eyes, before he enveloped the Colonel in a hug. Sam wrapped her arms around him, and with resting her head against his cheek for the briefest of moments said, "Happy birthday, Jack."

"Thanks, Sam."

With that they shared a smile and left the office, Jack closing the door with a resounding clang. As they rounded the red and black table, Jack tossed his keys in the air, catching them as they fell back onto his hand.

"So how long do you reckon before Daniel actually asks the woman out?" he asked Sam nonchalantly.

"I'm not helping you place a bet."

"Oh, come on! We would so win…" Jack complained, which only made Sam chuckle as they disappeared down the grey corridor.

Thanks for reading. Any and all comments are welcome.