Road Trippin'
Author: Regency
Title: Road Trippin’
Fandom: Stargate SG-1
Rating: PG (for one almost curse word)
Pairing: Sam/Jack implied
Warnings: None.
Spoilers: None specific, but takes place around season ten.
Words: ~945
Summary: Just because you leave the uniforms on base, doesn’t mean you leave the team.
Author’s Notes: Written for jenniferjensen for scifiland Giftgiving 2010. Posted late. Sorry.
Disclaimer: I don't own any characters recognizable as being from Stargate SG-1. They are the property of their actors, producers, writers, and studios, not me. No copyright infringement was intended and no money was made in the writing or distribution of this story. It was good, clean fun.
~!~
Just because you leave the uniforms on base, doesn’t mean you leave the team.
Yeah, Cam was really beginning to get that. He wasn’t even much of a hockey guy, but when General O’Neill had invited the team, and visiting former member Jonas Quinn, to share his very cozy box seats Cam wasn’t in much of a position to refuse. Sam had lit up immediately, Vala had leapt at the opportunity to experience something new on Earth, Teal’c had assented with visible pleasure, and Vala was making Daniel go whether he’d rather catalog his ‘rocks’ or not. It was on and It. Was. On.
Cam started to hate his life pretty much as soon they all packed into his car.
Jonas and Vala spent the start of the car trip bickering over teams. Nevermind that Vala hadn’t even known what hockey was until she’d looked it up on Wikipedia, couldn’t have named a team before Daniel mentioned his own tendency to back whichever one opposed Jack’s favorite. Not childish at all, Jackson, Cam had thought but kept his thoughts to himself and his eyes on the road.
Vala had followed Daniel’s example, thereby choosing to support the general’s team to needle SG-1’s resident Indiana Jones. It had all the makings of a fun night in people watching, if only Cam could have watched these people from outside his suddenly cramped ride.
Don’t misunderstand, Cam loved his team. He loved his co-leader, Sam Carter and he really didn’t mind her snuggled in close to him - not that he would ever say that aloud or mention it where General O’Neill might hear - but he could so do without her egging Jonas and Vala’s fight on with comments about whose team had won what championship cup. Last he’d heard, hockey wasn’t her thing either, yet here she was a veritable smorgasbord of useless trivia. When her cell rang out The Simpsons theme and she grinned as she answered, he figured, yeah, that explains everything.
Anyway, Cam was a big fan of his team. They were made up of men and women he considered honest to God heroes. He’d seen them in action too often to think of them as anything less and he still wished the general had sent them a driver. Teal’c was smugly at peace in his stolen corner of the passenger seat, while Sam was wedged surprisingly contently between them, gabbing at breakneck pace on her phone. Vala was actively relaying the entire call to the backseat contingent with appropriately maniacal glee. Jonas had already conceded the team argument, Cam thought out of fear for his virtue and his life. Vala mixed sensual persuasion and intimidation in a way the Joint Chiefs could only dream of setting on terrorists foreign, domestic, and intergalactic.
“Ooh, I think that was shorthand for, ‘I love you, snookums.’ Don’t you agree, Jonas?”
Cam looked up into rearview to see the former Kelownan and current Langaran send him a silent, wide-eyed request for assistance. Man down, man down! Yeah, Jonas was pretty much done for because no way was Cam having anything to do with translating Sam’s well-disguised lovey-dovey talk into plain English. Not his idea of a good time, especially not with the glare she was sending up at Jonas’ same reflection. Agree and die, it said pretty damn plainly. Nope, definitely not touching that-ever.
The trip continued much that way, with Jonas visibly counting out his life in coffee spoons and Cam wishing he’d had a free cup holder for the coffee or hot chocolate he’d like to be drinking right now. Even packed into a car with the alien United Nations with the heat blasting, Cam was freezing. It had just been that kind of day and the cold-ass planet they’d just returned from hadn’t helped. He’d take a guess that his core temp was ‘popsicle’ compared to the snow cone he was on the outside. He really just wanted to deal with this later, after he’d had some of his grandma’s chicken soup and curled up under the quilt she’d been sewing for him since he was born.
Patches for every year of his life: from big ones of red truck engines made for his chubby toddler hands to neat, small squares embroidered with whole continents where he’d been stationed and imitation combination colors of the medals he’d earned. Every day of your life is important, she’d told him. He couldn’t help wondering how she’d have commemorated this year in thread.
I’m thinking a big round alien artifact that looks like a rotten cheerio filled with blue jello. He thought it’d be a nice patch to wrap-up his quilt. There needn’t be a patch after this, because he just couldn’t see anything that came next topping the adventures he’d already had. Even in the cold, in the cramped, insanity-driving conditions of his car, he couldn’t himself ever having a better day. And it’s all thanks to these guys.
For the first time since they’d returned through the gate, Cam felt himself began to thaw.
“Sam and the general sitting in a tree, F-U-C-“
And, now he was beginning to burn. If his cheeks ran any hotter, he’d have to dump his parka. Sam’s horrified gargle didn’t help matters, the stunned silence reverberating from her phone notwithstanding.
“Vala!” Daniel’s credibility as the indignant disciplinarian was obliterated by the chuckle that followed.
“Wow,” Cam muttered to the frosty road ahead. “Wow.”
And what else could he say? These were the best days of his life and these were the best people he’d ever know.
Allegedly.
Maybe.
He sighed.
Definitely.
Title: Road Trippin’
Fandom: Stargate SG-1
Rating: PG (for one almost curse word)
Pairing: Sam/Jack implied
Warnings: None.
Spoilers: None specific, but takes place around season ten.
Words: ~945
Summary: Just because you leave the uniforms on base, doesn’t mean you leave the team.
Author’s Notes: Written for jenniferjensen for scifiland Giftgiving 2010. Posted late. Sorry.
Disclaimer: I don't own any characters recognizable as being from Stargate SG-1. They are the property of their actors, producers, writers, and studios, not me. No copyright infringement was intended and no money was made in the writing or distribution of this story. It was good, clean fun.
~!~
Just because you leave the uniforms on base, doesn’t mean you leave the team.
Yeah, Cam was really beginning to get that. He wasn’t even much of a hockey guy, but when General O’Neill had invited the team, and visiting former member Jonas Quinn, to share his very cozy box seats Cam wasn’t in much of a position to refuse. Sam had lit up immediately, Vala had leapt at the opportunity to experience something new on Earth, Teal’c had assented with visible pleasure, and Vala was making Daniel go whether he’d rather catalog his ‘rocks’ or not. It was on and It. Was. On.
Cam started to hate his life pretty much as soon they all packed into his car.
Jonas and Vala spent the start of the car trip bickering over teams. Nevermind that Vala hadn’t even known what hockey was until she’d looked it up on Wikipedia, couldn’t have named a team before Daniel mentioned his own tendency to back whichever one opposed Jack’s favorite. Not childish at all, Jackson, Cam had thought but kept his thoughts to himself and his eyes on the road.
Vala had followed Daniel’s example, thereby choosing to support the general’s team to needle SG-1’s resident Indiana Jones. It had all the makings of a fun night in people watching, if only Cam could have watched these people from outside his suddenly cramped ride.
Don’t misunderstand, Cam loved his team. He loved his co-leader, Sam Carter and he really didn’t mind her snuggled in close to him - not that he would ever say that aloud or mention it where General O’Neill might hear - but he could so do without her egging Jonas and Vala’s fight on with comments about whose team had won what championship cup. Last he’d heard, hockey wasn’t her thing either, yet here she was a veritable smorgasbord of useless trivia. When her cell rang out The Simpsons theme and she grinned as she answered, he figured, yeah, that explains everything.
Anyway, Cam was a big fan of his team. They were made up of men and women he considered honest to God heroes. He’d seen them in action too often to think of them as anything less and he still wished the general had sent them a driver. Teal’c was smugly at peace in his stolen corner of the passenger seat, while Sam was wedged surprisingly contently between them, gabbing at breakneck pace on her phone. Vala was actively relaying the entire call to the backseat contingent with appropriately maniacal glee. Jonas had already conceded the team argument, Cam thought out of fear for his virtue and his life. Vala mixed sensual persuasion and intimidation in a way the Joint Chiefs could only dream of setting on terrorists foreign, domestic, and intergalactic.
“Ooh, I think that was shorthand for, ‘I love you, snookums.’ Don’t you agree, Jonas?”
Cam looked up into rearview to see the former Kelownan and current Langaran send him a silent, wide-eyed request for assistance. Man down, man down! Yeah, Jonas was pretty much done for because no way was Cam having anything to do with translating Sam’s well-disguised lovey-dovey talk into plain English. Not his idea of a good time, especially not with the glare she was sending up at Jonas’ same reflection. Agree and die, it said pretty damn plainly. Nope, definitely not touching that-ever.
The trip continued much that way, with Jonas visibly counting out his life in coffee spoons and Cam wishing he’d had a free cup holder for the coffee or hot chocolate he’d like to be drinking right now. Even packed into a car with the alien United Nations with the heat blasting, Cam was freezing. It had just been that kind of day and the cold-ass planet they’d just returned from hadn’t helped. He’d take a guess that his core temp was ‘popsicle’ compared to the snow cone he was on the outside. He really just wanted to deal with this later, after he’d had some of his grandma’s chicken soup and curled up under the quilt she’d been sewing for him since he was born.
Patches for every year of his life: from big ones of red truck engines made for his chubby toddler hands to neat, small squares embroidered with whole continents where he’d been stationed and imitation combination colors of the medals he’d earned. Every day of your life is important, she’d told him. He couldn’t help wondering how she’d have commemorated this year in thread.
I’m thinking a big round alien artifact that looks like a rotten cheerio filled with blue jello. He thought it’d be a nice patch to wrap-up his quilt. There needn’t be a patch after this, because he just couldn’t see anything that came next topping the adventures he’d already had. Even in the cold, in the cramped, insanity-driving conditions of his car, he couldn’t himself ever having a better day. And it’s all thanks to these guys.
For the first time since they’d returned through the gate, Cam felt himself began to thaw.
“Sam and the general sitting in a tree, F-U-C-“
And, now he was beginning to burn. If his cheeks ran any hotter, he’d have to dump his parka. Sam’s horrified gargle didn’t help matters, the stunned silence reverberating from her phone notwithstanding.
“Vala!” Daniel’s credibility as the indignant disciplinarian was obliterated by the chuckle that followed.
“Wow,” Cam muttered to the frosty road ahead. “Wow.”
And what else could he say? These were the best days of his life and these were the best people he’d ever know.
Allegedly.
Maybe.
He sighed.
Definitely.