aurora_novarum (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
aurora_novarum) wrote2008-02-06 06:52 pm
aurora_novarum) wrote2008-02-06 06:52 pm
It's All in a Name
Title: All In A Name
Rating: PG
Warnings: No serious ones; don't trip over the cliches
Category: Humor; Crack!fic
Characters: Classic SG-1, Jack and Daniel focused
Summary: Jack's mouth has created a diplomatic snafu. Now he and Daniel are paying the price.
Word Count: approx 1350
Disclaimer: The characters of Stargate SG-1 are owned by MGM, Double Secret, Gekko Productions, and a host of other people who are not me. Not done for commercial gain and no infringement intended.
Author's Notes: This is a joint-birthday fic for one of my best R.L friends JB, and for fandom friend![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
astrumporta, a super sweet gal and a great SG-1 fan. I know you love slash, Michelle, but hopefully this gen fic will come close enough. :-) Thanks to pepper_field (and Mr. Pepper) for their help in betaing and checking choreography.
"Did not."
"Did too."
"Did not!"
"Did too!"
"Did not!"
Daniel refrained from responding to this circular argument again and took a deep breath, wondering when exposure to Jack O'Neill caused him to revert to a five year old. Instead he looked back towards the tribal leader, trying to think of some way to diplomatically resolve this without having to go through with this ordeal.
Unfortunately, the chieftain looked just as angry as the last time Daniel had seen him. Daniel tried again to speak but the chief just shook his head, glowering further. Daniel didn't think it was possible but the man seemed to loom over them even more. These people made Teal'c look like a 98 pound weakling. Why–oh why did Jack have to antagonize them?
It was a simple enough negotiation. SG-8 had made the initial trinium survey, SG-1 was just here to do the final rubber stamping. There'd been no Goa'uld, no alien diseases, not even moody animal spirit gods; just these strong, intelligent people who were happy to trade their mineral for a wider variety of food and some other refined metals.
Daniel had always known Jack's penchant for mispronouncing names would get them into trouble one day, and the infuriating thing was that Jack usually did it on purpose for some reason known only to himself. And now the day finally came to bite Jack on the ass; Daniel just didn't expect to be stuck in the fallout with him.
He wasn't sure when it had exactly gone wrong. It could've been when Jack had made a face when biting into what looked like a date but was in truth a bitter herb, or when he had interrupted Daniel's discussion with the medicine woman numerous times. But Daniel suspected it was when Jack mispronounced Chief Buzelatte's name.
Beside him, Jack spoke again. "You know, if we didn't have to look like Smurfs, I might not have a problem with it."
Daniel continued to gauge the chieftain's expression. "Jack...not helping," he got out through gritted teeth.
"No, I mean, obstacle course, no problem. Even this stupid three legged concept is fine. But seriously, the blue paint and white...are these really pants? I feel like a clown."
"Maybe that's the point." Daniel turned and glared fully at his commander. "I still don't know what the nature of the offense was, but I know he was offended. So we just have to go through the motions here."
Privately, Daniel had to agree with Jack. He had argued vociferously with Chief Buzzelatte that they at least be allowed to keep their clothes. Earth taboos, superstitions–nothing held any sway with the elders. The insulting leader and his translator must make amends by donning the supplicant garb and enduring the "ordeals." The ordeals themselves weren't a big deal: climbing a wall, crossing a plank, jumping through spinning hoops before crawling under a net to end up soaking in their small creek. Because in the chief's eyes both Jack and Daniel offended, both must be supplicants together–which meant tying Daniel's left wrist and ankle to Jack's right. Even that was manageable.
The kicker was the traditional outfit. Unfortunately, they didn't make "supplicant gear" in child sizes, and neither Jack nor Daniel fit well into even the ladies' garments. A shirt would've been fine, but no, they were shirtless, only wearing white pants with too loose of a belt. Both Daniel and Jack could've fit into one of these pairs of pants that almost came up to their chests, so both of them had the added aggravation of having to hold their pants up through the length of this obstacle course.
To add insult to injury, their upper bodies were to be covered in a bright blue paint. Daniel had started to ask if the color had a special meaning to their culture, but Jack's growl had shut him up. Now he was painted up, half-dressed, and tied to an ornery colonel.
Daniel was allowed the small concession of being allowed to keep his glasses, so he had a sharp view of the Chief Buzzelatte giving the signal to begin. He couldn't swear to it, but he almost thought the chief was trying to hide a smile. So the chief was amused by the tiny Tau'ri in their clothes.
"Yeah, yeah, laugh it up." Apparently Jack had noticed the twitch as well.
"Jack..." Daniel warned.
"Let's get this over with, Daniel," Jack said. "Outer foot first."
"Not much of a choice eh?" Daniel grimaced, but nodded.
"On three-two..."
They took off on the course at a quick pace, their years in the field giving them an unconscious awareness of how they would move. They ran to the wall easily and while the "wall" looked like an inpenetrable cliff, what would've served no purpose to the larger limbed Pisstouie made great hand and footholds for the pair. They easily reached the top. The plank, probably considered quite narrow to the natives, was still wider than both Daniel and Jack's feet standing sideways on the board. They sidestepped across.
The spinning hoops caused the first problem, and Daniel blinked and stopped to prevent dizziness. He felt his arm jerk as Jack had continued without him. He grabbed at his pants again to prevent himself mooning the tribe. God knows what the ordeal would be for that etiquette breach.
The hoops were spinning and interweaving in an intricate pattern, their shiny trinium surface reflecting the lights. Daniel could not make out a way through.
"All right, I've got a plan." Jack nodded to him. "Follow my lead."
Before Daniel knew what was happening, Jack had spun him so their intertwined hands were pointing outwards together and they were face-to-face. Stunned, he walked with Jack, and they were through three of the hoops before Daniel realized they were waltzing in some kind of awkward step.
"When did you learn to ballroom dance?" Daniel looked down at his feet.
"Academy. And ow!" Jack glowered as Daniel trod on Jack's toe. "Stop trying to lead."
"I can't help it, now that I realize what we're doing."
"How you're able to step on the foot that's tied to yours..."
The rest of Jack's thoughts were interrupted by a couple of bright flashes. Daniel wasn't sure if it was related to the rings or not. All he knew was they were finally through the dozen hoops and he thankfully was able to stop...dancing with his c.o.
Beside him, Jack groaned. "Tell me you're the one who carried the cameras this trip, Daniel, not Carter."
Confused Daniel looked at him. "Yeah, they're with our clothes back at the tent. But I think Sam always has a backup. Why do you..." Suddenly the flashes of light came into context. Daniel echoed Jack's groan. "Oh, she wouldn't."
"Oh, wouldn't she?"
Daniel tried to find their teammates amongst the tribe but couldn't pick them out amongst all the larger people. Besides, now they were to the nets, and keeping their pants on became an even bigger concern as they tried not to trip in the yards of material while reaching the other side.
Daniel found reaching the creek-bed blissful. He and Jack dove through it, the blue paint mostly washing off their bodies, and thankfully the larger white pants were an advantage. The extra material kept Daniel and Jack from giving even more of a show.
They were embraced by the tribe, engulfed in large fluffy towels. Daniel could make out one of the natives exclaiming how he and Jack had set a new time record for the course. He could barely make out Teal'c and Sam through the crowd. Teal'c bowed his head in apparent pleasure at his teammates prowess, but Sam had an evil glint to her eye and Daniel noticed her hands were hidden behind her back.
Which brought him back to glaring at Jack, who had gotten them in this predicament in the first place. Making an elaborate show of cleaning his glasses, he leaned close to Jack and in a voice too low for anyone else to hear, said. "Just remember, this never would've happened if you hadn't called him Buzz Lightyear."
Fin.
Rating: PG
Warnings: No serious ones; don't trip over the cliches
Category: Humor; Crack!fic
Characters: Classic SG-1, Jack and Daniel focused
Summary: Jack's mouth has created a diplomatic snafu. Now he and Daniel are paying the price.
Word Count: approx 1350
Disclaimer: The characters of Stargate SG-1 are owned by MGM, Double Secret, Gekko Productions, and a host of other people who are not me. Not done for commercial gain and no infringement intended.
Author's Notes: This is a joint-birthday fic for one of my best R.L friends JB, and for fandom friend
astrumporta, a super sweet gal and a great SG-1 fan. I know you love slash, Michelle, but hopefully this gen fic will come close enough. :-) Thanks to pepper_field (and Mr. Pepper) for their help in betaing and checking choreography."Did not."
"Did too."
"Did not!"
"Did too!"
"Did not!"
Daniel refrained from responding to this circular argument again and took a deep breath, wondering when exposure to Jack O'Neill caused him to revert to a five year old. Instead he looked back towards the tribal leader, trying to think of some way to diplomatically resolve this without having to go through with this ordeal.
Unfortunately, the chieftain looked just as angry as the last time Daniel had seen him. Daniel tried again to speak but the chief just shook his head, glowering further. Daniel didn't think it was possible but the man seemed to loom over them even more. These people made Teal'c look like a 98 pound weakling. Why–oh why did Jack have to antagonize them?
It was a simple enough negotiation. SG-8 had made the initial trinium survey, SG-1 was just here to do the final rubber stamping. There'd been no Goa'uld, no alien diseases, not even moody animal spirit gods; just these strong, intelligent people who were happy to trade their mineral for a wider variety of food and some other refined metals.
Daniel had always known Jack's penchant for mispronouncing names would get them into trouble one day, and the infuriating thing was that Jack usually did it on purpose for some reason known only to himself. And now the day finally came to bite Jack on the ass; Daniel just didn't expect to be stuck in the fallout with him.
He wasn't sure when it had exactly gone wrong. It could've been when Jack had made a face when biting into what looked like a date but was in truth a bitter herb, or when he had interrupted Daniel's discussion with the medicine woman numerous times. But Daniel suspected it was when Jack mispronounced Chief Buzelatte's name.
Beside him, Jack spoke again. "You know, if we didn't have to look like Smurfs, I might not have a problem with it."
Daniel continued to gauge the chieftain's expression. "Jack...not helping," he got out through gritted teeth.
"No, I mean, obstacle course, no problem. Even this stupid three legged concept is fine. But seriously, the blue paint and white...are these really pants? I feel like a clown."
"Maybe that's the point." Daniel turned and glared fully at his commander. "I still don't know what the nature of the offense was, but I know he was offended. So we just have to go through the motions here."
Privately, Daniel had to agree with Jack. He had argued vociferously with Chief Buzzelatte that they at least be allowed to keep their clothes. Earth taboos, superstitions–nothing held any sway with the elders. The insulting leader and his translator must make amends by donning the supplicant garb and enduring the "ordeals." The ordeals themselves weren't a big deal: climbing a wall, crossing a plank, jumping through spinning hoops before crawling under a net to end up soaking in their small creek. Because in the chief's eyes both Jack and Daniel offended, both must be supplicants together–which meant tying Daniel's left wrist and ankle to Jack's right. Even that was manageable.
The kicker was the traditional outfit. Unfortunately, they didn't make "supplicant gear" in child sizes, and neither Jack nor Daniel fit well into even the ladies' garments. A shirt would've been fine, but no, they were shirtless, only wearing white pants with too loose of a belt. Both Daniel and Jack could've fit into one of these pairs of pants that almost came up to their chests, so both of them had the added aggravation of having to hold their pants up through the length of this obstacle course.
To add insult to injury, their upper bodies were to be covered in a bright blue paint. Daniel had started to ask if the color had a special meaning to their culture, but Jack's growl had shut him up. Now he was painted up, half-dressed, and tied to an ornery colonel.
Daniel was allowed the small concession of being allowed to keep his glasses, so he had a sharp view of the Chief Buzzelatte giving the signal to begin. He couldn't swear to it, but he almost thought the chief was trying to hide a smile. So the chief was amused by the tiny Tau'ri in their clothes.
"Yeah, yeah, laugh it up." Apparently Jack had noticed the twitch as well.
"Jack..." Daniel warned.
"Let's get this over with, Daniel," Jack said. "Outer foot first."
"Not much of a choice eh?" Daniel grimaced, but nodded.
"On three-two..."
They took off on the course at a quick pace, their years in the field giving them an unconscious awareness of how they would move. They ran to the wall easily and while the "wall" looked like an inpenetrable cliff, what would've served no purpose to the larger limbed Pisstouie made great hand and footholds for the pair. They easily reached the top. The plank, probably considered quite narrow to the natives, was still wider than both Daniel and Jack's feet standing sideways on the board. They sidestepped across.
The spinning hoops caused the first problem, and Daniel blinked and stopped to prevent dizziness. He felt his arm jerk as Jack had continued without him. He grabbed at his pants again to prevent himself mooning the tribe. God knows what the ordeal would be for that etiquette breach.
The hoops were spinning and interweaving in an intricate pattern, their shiny trinium surface reflecting the lights. Daniel could not make out a way through.
"All right, I've got a plan." Jack nodded to him. "Follow my lead."
Before Daniel knew what was happening, Jack had spun him so their intertwined hands were pointing outwards together and they were face-to-face. Stunned, he walked with Jack, and they were through three of the hoops before Daniel realized they were waltzing in some kind of awkward step.
"When did you learn to ballroom dance?" Daniel looked down at his feet.
"Academy. And ow!" Jack glowered as Daniel trod on Jack's toe. "Stop trying to lead."
"I can't help it, now that I realize what we're doing."
"How you're able to step on the foot that's tied to yours..."
The rest of Jack's thoughts were interrupted by a couple of bright flashes. Daniel wasn't sure if it was related to the rings or not. All he knew was they were finally through the dozen hoops and he thankfully was able to stop...dancing with his c.o.
Beside him, Jack groaned. "Tell me you're the one who carried the cameras this trip, Daniel, not Carter."
Confused Daniel looked at him. "Yeah, they're with our clothes back at the tent. But I think Sam always has a backup. Why do you..." Suddenly the flashes of light came into context. Daniel echoed Jack's groan. "Oh, she wouldn't."
"Oh, wouldn't she?"
Daniel tried to find their teammates amongst the tribe but couldn't pick them out amongst all the larger people. Besides, now they were to the nets, and keeping their pants on became an even bigger concern as they tried not to trip in the yards of material while reaching the other side.
Daniel found reaching the creek-bed blissful. He and Jack dove through it, the blue paint mostly washing off their bodies, and thankfully the larger white pants were an advantage. The extra material kept Daniel and Jack from giving even more of a show.
They were embraced by the tribe, engulfed in large fluffy towels. Daniel could make out one of the natives exclaiming how he and Jack had set a new time record for the course. He could barely make out Teal'c and Sam through the crowd. Teal'c bowed his head in apparent pleasure at his teammates prowess, but Sam had an evil glint to her eye and Daniel noticed her hands were hidden behind her back.
Which brought him back to glaring at Jack, who had gotten them in this predicament in the first place. Making an elaborate show of cleaning his glasses, he leaned close to Jack and in a voice too low for anyone else to hear, said. "Just remember, this never would've happened if you hadn't called him Buzz Lightyear."
Fin.
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Happy Birthday to you...
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.....
You were smoking the very, very, very special crack tonight, weren't you?
That's quite the mental picture there :) Sam is going to have a field day with those shots.
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Oh yes, I provided Sam some lovely blackmail, didn't I?
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This really was bound to happen sometime, wasn't it? *g*
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Thanks for the fb.
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Re: It's all in a name
Now what's Sam going to do with those photos? Presumably the obstacle course goes on the mission report. Will she just post enlargements in the mess hall or something?
Re: It's all in a name
I'm sure Sam will save her Waltzing Smurf Teammate pictures for a special occasion.