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lilyleia78Title: In which Sam uses every trick in her arsenal to play matchmaker
Fandom: SG-1
Pairing: Jack/Daniel
Rating: PG
Prompt: Five pranks Sam pulled on Daniel but for which he blamed Jack. over at![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
sg1_five_things
In which Sam uses every trick in her arsenal to play matchmaker
Daniel escaped from his office and tracked Jack down in the gym. The Colonel was lightly boxing with Teal’c, more male bonding than workout.
“Jack.” Daniels voice was tight, teeth clenched as he held back the emotion Jack could see in his eyes – irritation, tinged with resignation, bordering on real anger.
Jack eyed the nearest exit before he visibly checked himself. “Daniel,” he answered, tone neutral but his face showing caution. “How’s it going?”
Daniel blinked and huffed as if he couldn’t believe that gall of Jack’s question. “How’s it going?” he repeated. Jack slowly removed his gear, calm and perfectly content to wait for Daniel’s answer. Sometimes silence was the better part of valor, especially when faced with a righteously pissy archaeologist. Daniel continued, “It was going very well. I made a major breakthrough in a translation for SG-9, but before I could get to the important part of the texts I developed a plague of interruptions.”
Daniel paused and arched an eyebrow at Jack. Since Jack hadn’t actually been by to bother Daniel today, he just looked back. When it became apparent Daniel was waiting for some kind of response, Jack ventured, “What kind of interruptions?”
This innocent question seemed to enrage Daniel. “What kind of…? Mostly the feminine, giggly kind. Although there was a horrifying almost-incident with Ferretti.”
When Carter wandered into the gym a few minutes later, she took one look at the tableau before her and shot a question to Teal’c with a glance.
“I believe Daniel Jackson is holding O’Neill responsible for his inability to get work done,” Teal’c answered.
“Join the club,” Sam muttered, but neither man acknowledged her. She pulled out her most long-suffering sigh. “What did he do now?”
For a moment, she thought they would keep ignoring her in favor of their little staring content. But then Daniel spun abruptly toward the door. “Follow me.”
It was a quiet group that made its way up three levels to 18. Their uncharacteristic tense silence earned them a few wary glances from base personnel, but they were too focused on their goal to pay much attention. When they got to Daniel’s lab, the linguist stopped in the hall just outside of the door. He pointed to the top of the doorframe and hissed, “That is what he did.”
SG-1 looked up as one and spotted the source of their friend’s ire, a small sprig of mistletoe.
“Oh, fer cryin’ out loud Daniel!” Jack bellowed. “You’re all worked up over some silly Christmas decorations?”
“No, Jack. I’m ‘all worked up’ over the constant interruptions your little prank is causing.” As if to punctuate Daniel’s claim, a giggling group of females rounded the corner. They came to a swift halt at the sight of the full team standing in the hallway. The military members of the group snapped off crisp salutes, turned tail and practically sprinted away. The civilians just waved and hovered, whispering excitedly to each other. Some of them began eyeing Jack and Teal’c with renewed interest.
Daniel pulled off his glasses, dropped his head, and rubbed the spot between his eyes, desperately fighting off a headache. “Jack, please. I didn’t complain when you stole all the towels while I was in the shower. I forgave you for changing my computer passwords to ‘I love Jack.’ I decided you’d suffered enough when you got caught in your own trap the day elevators inexplicably stopped working every time I set foot in one. And I’ve never even told anyone about the gross breach of security you perpetuated by cutting all power to my on base quarters so that I was forced to use candles. But this is too much! I was trapped in there for 20 minutes waiting for a chance to escape. I can’t work like this; fix it.”
Jack opened his mouth to protest, yet again, that he’d had nothing to do with any of that, up to and including the mistletoe, but melted at the defeated slump in Daniel’s shoulders. He looked thoughtfully at the offending plant, at the women loitering in the hall, at Daniel’s distressed expression, and finally, at the camera pointed their way. Then he stepped directly under the offending greenery. Instead of removing it, he grabbed Daniel’s arm and pulled him into the doorframe.
Daniel looked up in surprise, and Jack gently fitted their mouths together in a soft, chaste kiss, the barest brush of dry lips. Daniel’s eyes fluttered open when Jack pulled back; he didn’t even remember closing them.
“Do you think that’ll do the trick?” Jack asked teasingly. But Daniel could read the affection and nervousness in the hand still clenched on his arm, could feel the weight of the question in the steady gaze meeting his.
Daniel smiled and let his feelings show in the expression, let years of longing denied color his answer. “I don’t know. They were pretty persistent. Once more, with feeling?” he suggested.
“I can do that.”
The two men were too lost in each after that to notice Sam’s triumphant smirk.
The complete list of my Stargate fiction can be found here.
Fandom: SG-1
Pairing: Jack/Daniel
Rating: PG
Prompt: Five pranks Sam pulled on Daniel but for which he blamed Jack. over at
sg1_five_thingsIn which Sam uses every trick in her arsenal to play matchmaker
Daniel escaped from his office and tracked Jack down in the gym. The Colonel was lightly boxing with Teal’c, more male bonding than workout.
“Jack.” Daniels voice was tight, teeth clenched as he held back the emotion Jack could see in his eyes – irritation, tinged with resignation, bordering on real anger.
Jack eyed the nearest exit before he visibly checked himself. “Daniel,” he answered, tone neutral but his face showing caution. “How’s it going?”
Daniel blinked and huffed as if he couldn’t believe that gall of Jack’s question. “How’s it going?” he repeated. Jack slowly removed his gear, calm and perfectly content to wait for Daniel’s answer. Sometimes silence was the better part of valor, especially when faced with a righteously pissy archaeologist. Daniel continued, “It was going very well. I made a major breakthrough in a translation for SG-9, but before I could get to the important part of the texts I developed a plague of interruptions.”
Daniel paused and arched an eyebrow at Jack. Since Jack hadn’t actually been by to bother Daniel today, he just looked back. When it became apparent Daniel was waiting for some kind of response, Jack ventured, “What kind of interruptions?”
This innocent question seemed to enrage Daniel. “What kind of…? Mostly the feminine, giggly kind. Although there was a horrifying almost-incident with Ferretti.”
When Carter wandered into the gym a few minutes later, she took one look at the tableau before her and shot a question to Teal’c with a glance.
“I believe Daniel Jackson is holding O’Neill responsible for his inability to get work done,” Teal’c answered.
“Join the club,” Sam muttered, but neither man acknowledged her. She pulled out her most long-suffering sigh. “What did he do now?”
For a moment, she thought they would keep ignoring her in favor of their little staring content. But then Daniel spun abruptly toward the door. “Follow me.”
It was a quiet group that made its way up three levels to 18. Their uncharacteristic tense silence earned them a few wary glances from base personnel, but they were too focused on their goal to pay much attention. When they got to Daniel’s lab, the linguist stopped in the hall just outside of the door. He pointed to the top of the doorframe and hissed, “That is what he did.”
SG-1 looked up as one and spotted the source of their friend’s ire, a small sprig of mistletoe.
“Oh, fer cryin’ out loud Daniel!” Jack bellowed. “You’re all worked up over some silly Christmas decorations?”
“No, Jack. I’m ‘all worked up’ over the constant interruptions your little prank is causing.” As if to punctuate Daniel’s claim, a giggling group of females rounded the corner. They came to a swift halt at the sight of the full team standing in the hallway. The military members of the group snapped off crisp salutes, turned tail and practically sprinted away. The civilians just waved and hovered, whispering excitedly to each other. Some of them began eyeing Jack and Teal’c with renewed interest.
Daniel pulled off his glasses, dropped his head, and rubbed the spot between his eyes, desperately fighting off a headache. “Jack, please. I didn’t complain when you stole all the towels while I was in the shower. I forgave you for changing my computer passwords to ‘I love Jack.’ I decided you’d suffered enough when you got caught in your own trap the day elevators inexplicably stopped working every time I set foot in one. And I’ve never even told anyone about the gross breach of security you perpetuated by cutting all power to my on base quarters so that I was forced to use candles. But this is too much! I was trapped in there for 20 minutes waiting for a chance to escape. I can’t work like this; fix it.”
Jack opened his mouth to protest, yet again, that he’d had nothing to do with any of that, up to and including the mistletoe, but melted at the defeated slump in Daniel’s shoulders. He looked thoughtfully at the offending plant, at the women loitering in the hall, at Daniel’s distressed expression, and finally, at the camera pointed their way. Then he stepped directly under the offending greenery. Instead of removing it, he grabbed Daniel’s arm and pulled him into the doorframe.
Daniel looked up in surprise, and Jack gently fitted their mouths together in a soft, chaste kiss, the barest brush of dry lips. Daniel’s eyes fluttered open when Jack pulled back; he didn’t even remember closing them.
“Do you think that’ll do the trick?” Jack asked teasingly. But Daniel could read the affection and nervousness in the hand still clenched on his arm, could feel the weight of the question in the steady gaze meeting his.
Daniel smiled and let his feelings show in the expression, let years of longing denied color his answer. “I don’t know. They were pretty persistent. Once more, with feeling?” he suggested.
“I can do that.”
The two men were too lost in each after that to notice Sam’s triumphant smirk.
The complete list of my Stargate fiction can be found here.
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Date: 2008-12-25 12:37 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-12-25 08:00 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-12-27 01:33 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-12-28 04:19 am (UTC)PS - Did you get the Christmas present I wrote you?
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Date: 2008-12-28 08:21 am (UTC)Yeah, i saw it. I'm making my way through the posts that I've missed to get to it. Had a busy Yule season. Will get there soon :)