Disclaimer: The following story is based on characters from the television series "Stargate SG-1," of which I own no part. If you recognize anything, it does not belong to me. I just borrow them on occasion and make them play nice with each other.

Author's note: This story is just a short one-shot about one of the many ways Jack and Sam could have taken the next step in their relationship.

Two Words

Jack parked his tan rental sedan next to an Indian motorcycle in front of the small bar on the northern outskirts of Las Vegas. He smiled, admiring the machine as he stepped out and approached the front door. He glanced around taking in the stark area, brown and dusty with just a few cactus and scrub oaks scattered around. The heat was nearly suffocating, already making his blue jeans cling to his legs.

He pulled open the door and a cool breeze swept over him from inside the air-conditioned building, bringing the scent of booze and smoke. He stepped through, pulling off his sunglasses and tucking them into the breast pocket of his dark blue, button front, short-sleeve shirt. As he approached the tall, wooden bar and perched on a swivel stool, his eyes scanned the room, seeking, and stopping when they fell on a tall woman at the pool table.

Her back was to him as she lined up a shot. Over her black boots, blue jeans covered her long legs. A simple red tank top fell just past her hips. Her long, blond hair was pulled back in a ponytail at her nape. She had not seen him yet.

"I see you found the best looking thing here," said a deep voice from behind Jack.

He turned and eyed the bartender, a big man with a scruffy, black beard and friendly smile.

"What can I get you?" the barkeep asked.

"Guinness," replied Jack, looking back to the woman. "What do you know about her?"

"She's almost a regular," he answered, as another man who had been two barstools over from Jack moved closer. "Some weeks she's in two, three times. Sometimes we don't see her for a month or more."

"Her name is Sam," contributed the new man, also eyeing the woman. "Did you see that Indian out front? It's hers," he went on with admiration.

Jack looked him up and down. He was tall, a few years younger than Jack was, and clean-shaven with close-cropped dark hair. His grey tee shirt and blue jeans bore slight traces of grease, as did his hands. Jack guessed he was a mechanic. His green eyes held mischief.

"She drinks Guinness, too," continued the bartender, setting a tall glass filled with dark liquid before Jack. "She comes in, orders, and plays pool for two or three rounds."

"Anyone ever play against her?" asked Jack with a slight smile, sipping his beer.

"Not anymore," said the barkeep with a chuckle. "When she first started coming in a few of the boys did, hoping to get a number or maybe some extra cash."

"But that ended when we realized nobody could beat her," put in the mechanic.

"So how much did you lose?" the barkeep asked the mechanic with a chuckle.

"Let's not go there," the mechanic answered wryly.

"She's friendly enough, but she keeps to herself, doesn't say much," the barkeep continued to tell Jack. "I don't know anything about her outside of what I see here. She leaves once she's done playing."

"And always alone," the mechanic added. "I've seen several guys ask her out, but she always turns them down."

Jack detected a hint of resignation in his voice and surmised that he had been turned down more than once. He smiled slightly.

"Well, I think I'll give it a try," Jack said calmly.

"I'm telling you, you won't get anywhere," the mechanic said sardonically, pulling his eyes from Sam, who still had not noticed them. He looked Jack up and down and added, "I'd bet money on it."

"Would you now?" Jack posed turning his attention to the younger man. "Say, fifty bucks? I get a kiss with just two words, and then she leaves with me. I'll even right the words in a note."

"No way," the mechanic boasted. "Just two words in a note? Never in a million years. But if you really want to give me fifty bucks, I'll be glad to take it."

"Show me your green," Jack said, pulling out his wallet.

Both men laid fifty dollars on the bar between them. Jack grabbed a small napkin and asked the barkeep for a pen. Then he wrote two words on the napkin and gave the brief note to the mechanic.

"Give this to her and say only that it's from me," Jack instructed.

The mechanic grinned and strode confidently to Sam. He glanced back to make sure Jack and the barkeep watched as he held the note in front of Sam and said clearly enough for them to hear, "This is from the guy at the bar."

Sam took the note and read it. She spun on her heel and her eyes met Jacks. She smiled brilliantly, her blue eyes alight with pleasure.

Jack stood and held his arms out in invitation. Sam almost jogged to him, note still in hand, and threw her arms around his neck. Jack squeezed her back then pulled his head back to look at her. Their faces moved together until their lips met in an ardent kiss.

"You want to get out of here?" Jack asked Sam with a smile once they parted.

"Yeah," she replied, still grinning at him.

"Go get your stuff," Jack said, finally releasing her.

She quickly walked to the table where her jacket and helmet were, picking them up. Jack turned to the barkeep with a smile and picked up the one-hundred dollars from the bar.

"Thanks for the beer," Jack said, handing him money for his drink. "Maybe we'll be back sometime."

Sam rejoined him and they headed for the door, arms wrapped around each other's waists, as the mechanic returned to the bar with a sullen look.

"They must already know each other," he stated, staring at their backs as they left the building.

"What did that note say?" asked the barkeep in amazement.

The mechanic turned to him and answered, "I'm retired."