This is for my friends at the Sam Jack Shipper Family thread on Gateworld. I have to go to a family birthday party now but will give you the Main Course and Dessert hopefully by end of day. In the meantime, enjoy!

Stuffed Chapter 1 - Appetizer

The clatter coming from Jack's kitchen finally caused Sam to reach for her crutches and hobble to the doorway.

"Do you need help?"

A somewhat-frazzled Jack O'Neill turned quickly, knocking a salt shaker to the floor where it joined a large cooking spoon. As he stooped to pick up both items he looked up at his former 2IC who was dressed in a snug pink sweater and tight black leather pants. At that moment, his inner thermostat shot up higher than the temperature in the oven.

God, she was delicious. She was so sexy. She was hot. She was … looking at him like he had two heads.

"Sir, you seem a bit off your game. Can I help?"

Jack stood and met her stare which was much safer than his prior body-scan position from the floor. Immediate mission: turn up the heat in the oven for the turkey and turn down racing heart and other peripheral operating systems.

"No, Carter, I'm fine and you shouldn't be standing on that bum leg. The whole purpose of my having you over here for Thanksgiving was to make sure you got the rest you needed. So consider me your personal chef for the day."

She leaned against the door frame and looked hesitant.

Jack reassured her, "I've taken down snake heads on other planets; I can handle a turkey in my own kitchen."

She still seemed unconvinced so he winked at her. She rolled her eyes and shrugged and then turned on her crutches and started swinging herself back to the living room.

Backfield in motion. Damn, she was sexy even on crutches! Jack, stop that! His super-ego was stabbing him with guilt. He should not be ogling a woman on crutches …a woman whose body was perfectly toned and curvaceously tempting ...

The oven timer rang loudly and Jack jumped, dropping the cooking spoon he had just retrieved from the floor.

"You really sure about the turkey?" The voice from the living room sounded slightly amused.

"Piece of cake … I mean piece of meat."

This was getting worse by the moment. 'Piece of meat?!' What the hell was he thinking?

Silence.

Maybe she wasn't offended; maybe she was. He would never want her to think that he was feeding her as a means of seduction. Eating good food, getting filled with a wonderfully prepared meal, was a delight in itself. They had eaten so many MREs over the years that he was secretly thrilled to prepare this feast for her.

And feast it was. He had the jellied cranberry chilling in the fridge; potatoes peeled and ready to go; green beans rinsed and ready to simmer, plus a fresh spinach salad with vinaigrette dressing. He wouldn't tell her but he had stayed up late into the night getting all the side dishes prepared so that he could devote his attention to the turkey alone and spend more time with her.

Cooking was a lot like the logistics of an off-world mission. You defined your target, gathered the necessary intel, pulled together your team and equipment, went through the Gate, engaged the mission.

His target was a small hen turkey. He had basted and patted and followed a Julia Child recipe which he got off the Internet - good intel. If he only could stop dropping his equipment on the kitchen floor, he would finish this off without a glitch and impress his dinner guest. Impress is good. The reward would be one of her megawatt smiles of admiration and, if he got lucky, a warm hug. Yeah, impress is very, very good.

Jack O'Neill was now fully engaged. The bird had been cooking for a few hours, thermostat maintaining an even temp (the bird's, not his). He had removed the foil covering and the bird was turning a golden brown; there was only another hour left to go. He would then make gravy from the drippings. Nothing to it.

This gourmet-cooking adventure excited him. One day, it could be a retirement hobby. Hell, he might even qualify for one of those TV Chef shows in his later years.

Everything was under control. He switched the burners on for the potatoes and green beans, rinsed his hands, took off his apron (a gift from Teal'c), and set the table for two with his best crockery.

Oh, don't forget the candlesticks. Suave. Women love low lighting with their food.

Now he could spend the next hour entertaining Sam. Impress, Jack, impress.

Sam was settled on the sofa, her left leg propped up on a stool when he popped around the corner. She put down the latest issue of Field and Stream as he handed her a glass of white wine. He also had a glass of wine for himself.

"What happened to the Guinness?"

"My dear Carter, you may not know this, but I have quite a palate for the fruit of the vine. It's not just all barley and hops with me."

Sam snorted and actually spilled some of her wine. Jack hurried to the kitchen and returned with a linen napkin.

"Jack? You are so with it today. Linen instead of paper?"

This 'impress' thing was getting better by the minute.

"Nothing but the best, for the best." Okay, let's stay away from the clichés. It's getting a bit forced.

"I just mean that you're someone very special but we've never really gotten to know each other well, other than that whole team-mates thing. Now that you're going to Area 51 and I'm on my way to Washington, I was hoping that we could establish some new rules and stay in touch."

There! It was out in the open. His hidden agenda asserted itself. Perfectly okay. Nothing more than an extension of friendship and good will. Who was he kidding? He was gonna miss her something awful. He could not even comprehend a day without Sam in his life.

The mouth-watering aroma of turkey came wafting through the living room. With Jack's candid words, both their senses were on high alert. The smell of turkey stirred other hungers.

Sam was touched by Jack's honesty and realized that she, too, hardly knew the person in front of her aside from their long-term relationship as soldiers. She, likewise, wanted to change that. In fact, that was why she agreed to this very private Thanksgiving dinner at Jack's house. She felt that she would see the man behind the uniform much better. Laughingly, she discovered the man behind the apron when she arrived. This pleased her. Sitting here in his living room, surrounded by Jack's artifacts and memorabilia, also added to her sense of pleasure.

She was secretly filling herself up with all-things-Jack - to take with her to her new position and new life at Area 51. Most of all, she wanted to know if there could be a future for them, a future where they were finally free to express the long-hidden desires which had never gone away. Jack's words seemed hopeful. It was her turn to reciprocate.

"I'd like that very much. I feel that we're just getting started on a new kind of relationship, a new friendship. Spending the weekend with you, Teal'c and Daniel, at your cabin was so much fun. I wanted more time, though, to spend with you, alone. Does that sound selfish?"

Fireworks were going off in Jack's head. He wanted to swirl Sam around in his arms and climb a roof, shouting, "We've got a future!"

Instead, he sipped his wine and gazed into those adorable blue eyes and simply confessed, "It's not selfish to make up for lost time, past regrets. I don't want to lose you, Sam. I want there to be an 'us'. Always."

Her eyes misted and she clinked his glass, whispering, "To new beginnings."

Jack reached for her wine glass and set both on the coffee table.

"C'mere."

The first gentle kiss celebrated their new status.

"Here's to the broken chain of command."

The second kiss echoed the first.

"Here's to no more rules and regulations."

The third kiss lasted longer.

"Here's to us."

The fourth kiss found Sam lying on the sofa with Jack atop her.

"Here's to our future."

Jack couldn't tell if bells were going off in his head or if it was the kitchen timer. He was in paradise and it could have been a heavenly chorus for all that mattered.

Sam, flushed but ever pragmatic, lightly pushed him back and announced, "Jack, I think the turkey's done. Go turn off the timer."

God, what a Thanksgiving!

It was all he could do to tear himself away from the woman he loved but Jack rose from the couch, helped Sam sit up, and returned to the kitchen for final preparations.

Sam sat, breathless but happy, oh so happy, and fingered the empty wine glass. Daydreams of a future with Jack were forming.

Dreams that were no longer dissipating like clouds. Dreams that could become real.