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A Better Species of Insult (Stargate SG1)
A Better Species of Insult
By Lokei
Universe: Stargate SG-1
Rating: PG ish
Disclaimer: Not mine, at least not on this side of the mirror.
Summary: You know that saying, ‘don’t dish it out if you can’t take it?’ Daniel’s giving lessons.
= = =
It was possible, Jack reflected, that the impulse to take Daniel out for a relaxing beer and a few laughs had not been his best thought ever. Not only was the archaeologist refusing to mellow and forget about the latest mission crash-and-burn, but he was also insulting Jack’s chosen venue of relaxation.
Maybe they should have just gone to Jack’s house instead.
“I’m just saying, Jack, that it’s a damn good thing there were loopholes in their code of civil judgement. Next time I may not be able to keep you out of the stocks, Sam off the stake, and Teal’c out of the auction corral all at the same goddamn time!”
Yup, should have gone home. Jack decided to minimize the damage potential and tried to steer Daniel away from the dartboard at the end of the bar, but Daniel merely stood in the aisle and glared into the beer Jack had pushed into his hand.
“And this is vile, Jack. What on earth kind of beer did you order?”
Jack shrugged. “Beer, Daniel. It’s probably a Bud, based on the sign over the bar, there.” There was a little bit of annoyance that snuck past him there-couldn’t help it. Getting dressed down by one’s civilian consultant, however eruditely, was really too much after a bad day.
The thing about bad days, though, is that just when you really hope they’re over, they get worse.
Daniel, turning to look scathingly at the sign over the bar, had his beer still stretched out in Jack’s general direction, and was completely unaware of the man-mountain bearing down on him from the opposite heading. Man-mountain met beer glass with more force than necessary and a certain amount of splashing even as Jack called out a warning.
“Hey, Four-Eyes, watch where you’re going,” sneered the man-mountain as Daniel turned to face him, and Jack froze in the act of fetching paper napkins from the bar.
He risked a glance at the archaeologist, whose eyes were glacial behind their lenses.
“Four Eyes?” Daniel’s voice was as icy as his features and Jack winced.
“Daniel,” he said softly, unused to playing peacemaker. His friend ignored him.
“Leaving aside the fact that I was standing still and you bumped into me,” Daniel continued, slowly and clearly in his most patient and dangerous tone, “don’t you think we’re both a little old for name calling?”
“Whatsamatter, you insulted? Don’t like anyone mentioning you’re a four-eyes, Four-Eyes?”
Daniel put down the empty beer glass on the bar behind him and crossed his arms. “You can’t be insulted about something that’s true,” a pleasant-looking smile crossed his face and his eyebrows went up in professorial-mode. Jack started looking for cover.
“But what is insulting is that you put so little effort into it,” Daniel’s smile didn’t waver. “After all, isn’t that a little second-grade for someone of your girth and apparent age?”
“Whaddya mean?” Man-mountain looked like he should be insulted if he could figure out what the hell Daniel had said.
“Well, if you’re going to insult someone,” Daniel hopped up on the closest barstool, deceptively casually, “then really, it’s far more effective if you give it some style. I could come up with a dozen better ways to insult someone with accessories like these,” he waved at his face.
“Oh yeah?”
Stunning retort, Jack wanted to say, but as soon as he opened his mouth a glare from Daniel shut it. Ah, hell. He’d taken plenty of crap from Daniel already today. Be nice to see someone else take it instead.
“I’d like to hear that,” Jack said, and leaned against the bar next to Daniel. “Wouldn’t you folks?”
They’d drawn a certain amount of attention, and all around the bar there were nods and shouts of agreement.
There was a flicker of a real smile aimed Jack’s direction, and then Dr. Danger Jackson took back over. Jack was really going to have to talk to Daniel about his anger management. This icy dictator thing was kinda scary. Compelling, but scary.
“Very well,” Daniel took his glasses off, polished them conspicuously on his tee shirt, and put them back on again. “A dozen optometry themed insults.” He crossed one leg over the other in a parody of a concerned doctor-type. “The chiropractor,” Daniel announced and affected a look of concern.
“You must get terrible neck strain trying to balance the weight of those things on your face.”
A few smirks around the audience, and Daniel continued.
“The traffic cop,” he unbent his leg and crossed his arms sternly. “I’m sorry, sir, I’ll have to confiscate your license. The legally blind are not allowed to drive.”
A few more smirks.
“The parent,” Daniel put a hand over his heart. “Oh, you poor thing, did your parents not feed you enough carrots as a child?”
Some smirks were turning to snickers and Man-mountain shifted from one foot to the other. Jack watched.
“The meteorologist,” Daniel announced, “Do you need windshield wipers on those when it rains? The environmentalist: Do you find you have large heating bills with such big windows? The architect,” Daniel swept a hand out in front of his face as if he were pointing out an architectural feature. “You know, that stunning expanse of glass reminds me greatly of the clerestory at the Cathedral of Notre Dame.”
Someone laughed right out loud-Jack took a quick glance to see if he could figure out who the other architecture geek was in the crowd, but couldn’t find him. So instead, Jack watched Daniel bury a grin and continue.
The Good Samaritan,” Daniel hopped off his stool and went over to someone in the crowd that had gathered around them. “Do you need help crossing the street? You appear to have lost your seeing eye dog.”
More general snickering.
“The poet,” Daniel stepped away and looked at Jack, eyes twinkling. “They say the eyes are the windows to the soul. What a pity you took them literally.” Jack grinned and shook his head. “The romantic,” Daniel added, and then clutched at his chest in a gesture of imploring devotion, voice raised in a melodramatic cry. “Twin pools of light-alas that there should be such a heartless barrier between your gaze and mine!”
Jack coughed into his hand until he could contain his laughter, not that there was much point. Most of the bar was laughing now, and probably most of them thought Daniel was drunk. Daniel wasn’t, but apparently Jack’s archaeologist was a frustrated ham. “That’s nine, Daniel.”
Man-mountain was losing face fast, and patience faster. “You done now?”
Daniel stepped lightly back to his stool and resumed his perch. “I still owe you three insults, I believe.” There was a round of laughter, and Daniel assumed his most tweed-and-lectern air. “The historian: In Ancient Egypt, most musicians were intentionally blinded so that they could focus on the music. I think you’d fit right in.”
“Ten!” cried someone in the crowd. Daniel nodded at his tally-keeper and went on.
“The survivalist.” Daniel was up off his stool once more, and something in the way he stood just yelled ‘Marine,’ though Jack was damned if he could see what it was about Daniel that did it. Something in his stance maybe, and the way suddenly his shoulders looked broad. “You must have been quite the Boy Scout-not everyone carries their fire starters on their face.”
“Eleven!” called a scattering of people over the renewed laughter. Man-mountain was turning an interesting shade of purple and Jack was relieved to note that the bartender was keeping just as cautious an eye on him as Jack was.
Daniel was playing to the crowd, ticking off on his fingers and nodding, holding up one finger to signify his last one. “The astronomer,” he said, locking eyes once more with Jack, whose eyebrows felt like they were preparing for take-off.
Daniel took his glasses off his face, held them close to his eyes and then out at arm’s length and exclaimed, “Wow! You can see the craters of the moon through these!”
It was funnier than it should have been-largely because Daniel was pointing his lenses at Man-mountain’s ass and looking comically horrified. It was less funny when Man-mountain lost what was left of his control and tried to take a swing at the archaeologist. Daniel tucked and pivoted in a move Jack would have sworn the linguist had been failing to learn for as long as Jack had been trying to teach it to him. He came out of the maneuver standing next to Jack, and Man-mountain, having over-balanced, was now trying not to topple into the bar itself.
“Okay, Cyrano, bow to your adoring public and let’s go before it turns into swords in the orchard at dawn,” Jack grumbled.
Daniel took his advice-and a sweeping bow-and snickered as they headed for the door amid applause. Jack bit back a grin. Sure, it had been a crap day. But even the worst ones end eventually.
“So Daniel,” Jack said as he steered the other man towards his car and a nice quiet drink at home, “do you have twelve alternate insults I can store up to use on the snakeheads? Or possibly on mouthy archaeologists?”
Daniel’s laughter hung in the air around him like a benediction. Mission accomplished.
By Lokei
Universe: Stargate SG-1
Rating: PG ish
Disclaimer: Not mine, at least not on this side of the mirror.
Summary: You know that saying, ‘don’t dish it out if you can’t take it?’ Daniel’s giving lessons.
= = =
It was possible, Jack reflected, that the impulse to take Daniel out for a relaxing beer and a few laughs had not been his best thought ever. Not only was the archaeologist refusing to mellow and forget about the latest mission crash-and-burn, but he was also insulting Jack’s chosen venue of relaxation.
Maybe they should have just gone to Jack’s house instead.
“I’m just saying, Jack, that it’s a damn good thing there were loopholes in their code of civil judgement. Next time I may not be able to keep you out of the stocks, Sam off the stake, and Teal’c out of the auction corral all at the same goddamn time!”
Yup, should have gone home. Jack decided to minimize the damage potential and tried to steer Daniel away from the dartboard at the end of the bar, but Daniel merely stood in the aisle and glared into the beer Jack had pushed into his hand.
“And this is vile, Jack. What on earth kind of beer did you order?”
Jack shrugged. “Beer, Daniel. It’s probably a Bud, based on the sign over the bar, there.” There was a little bit of annoyance that snuck past him there-couldn’t help it. Getting dressed down by one’s civilian consultant, however eruditely, was really too much after a bad day.
The thing about bad days, though, is that just when you really hope they’re over, they get worse.
Daniel, turning to look scathingly at the sign over the bar, had his beer still stretched out in Jack’s general direction, and was completely unaware of the man-mountain bearing down on him from the opposite heading. Man-mountain met beer glass with more force than necessary and a certain amount of splashing even as Jack called out a warning.
“Hey, Four-Eyes, watch where you’re going,” sneered the man-mountain as Daniel turned to face him, and Jack froze in the act of fetching paper napkins from the bar.
He risked a glance at the archaeologist, whose eyes were glacial behind their lenses.
“Four Eyes?” Daniel’s voice was as icy as his features and Jack winced.
“Daniel,” he said softly, unused to playing peacemaker. His friend ignored him.
“Leaving aside the fact that I was standing still and you bumped into me,” Daniel continued, slowly and clearly in his most patient and dangerous tone, “don’t you think we’re both a little old for name calling?”
“Whatsamatter, you insulted? Don’t like anyone mentioning you’re a four-eyes, Four-Eyes?”
Daniel put down the empty beer glass on the bar behind him and crossed his arms. “You can’t be insulted about something that’s true,” a pleasant-looking smile crossed his face and his eyebrows went up in professorial-mode. Jack started looking for cover.
“But what is insulting is that you put so little effort into it,” Daniel’s smile didn’t waver. “After all, isn’t that a little second-grade for someone of your girth and apparent age?”
“Whaddya mean?” Man-mountain looked like he should be insulted if he could figure out what the hell Daniel had said.
“Well, if you’re going to insult someone,” Daniel hopped up on the closest barstool, deceptively casually, “then really, it’s far more effective if you give it some style. I could come up with a dozen better ways to insult someone with accessories like these,” he waved at his face.
“Oh yeah?”
Stunning retort, Jack wanted to say, but as soon as he opened his mouth a glare from Daniel shut it. Ah, hell. He’d taken plenty of crap from Daniel already today. Be nice to see someone else take it instead.
“I’d like to hear that,” Jack said, and leaned against the bar next to Daniel. “Wouldn’t you folks?”
They’d drawn a certain amount of attention, and all around the bar there were nods and shouts of agreement.
There was a flicker of a real smile aimed Jack’s direction, and then Dr. Danger Jackson took back over. Jack was really going to have to talk to Daniel about his anger management. This icy dictator thing was kinda scary. Compelling, but scary.
“Very well,” Daniel took his glasses off, polished them conspicuously on his tee shirt, and put them back on again. “A dozen optometry themed insults.” He crossed one leg over the other in a parody of a concerned doctor-type. “The chiropractor,” Daniel announced and affected a look of concern.
“You must get terrible neck strain trying to balance the weight of those things on your face.”
A few smirks around the audience, and Daniel continued.
“The traffic cop,” he unbent his leg and crossed his arms sternly. “I’m sorry, sir, I’ll have to confiscate your license. The legally blind are not allowed to drive.”
A few more smirks.
“The parent,” Daniel put a hand over his heart. “Oh, you poor thing, did your parents not feed you enough carrots as a child?”
Some smirks were turning to snickers and Man-mountain shifted from one foot to the other. Jack watched.
“The meteorologist,” Daniel announced, “Do you need windshield wipers on those when it rains? The environmentalist: Do you find you have large heating bills with such big windows? The architect,” Daniel swept a hand out in front of his face as if he were pointing out an architectural feature. “You know, that stunning expanse of glass reminds me greatly of the clerestory at the Cathedral of Notre Dame.”
Someone laughed right out loud-Jack took a quick glance to see if he could figure out who the other architecture geek was in the crowd, but couldn’t find him. So instead, Jack watched Daniel bury a grin and continue.
The Good Samaritan,” Daniel hopped off his stool and went over to someone in the crowd that had gathered around them. “Do you need help crossing the street? You appear to have lost your seeing eye dog.”
More general snickering.
“The poet,” Daniel stepped away and looked at Jack, eyes twinkling. “They say the eyes are the windows to the soul. What a pity you took them literally.” Jack grinned and shook his head. “The romantic,” Daniel added, and then clutched at his chest in a gesture of imploring devotion, voice raised in a melodramatic cry. “Twin pools of light-alas that there should be such a heartless barrier between your gaze and mine!”
Jack coughed into his hand until he could contain his laughter, not that there was much point. Most of the bar was laughing now, and probably most of them thought Daniel was drunk. Daniel wasn’t, but apparently Jack’s archaeologist was a frustrated ham. “That’s nine, Daniel.”
Man-mountain was losing face fast, and patience faster. “You done now?”
Daniel stepped lightly back to his stool and resumed his perch. “I still owe you three insults, I believe.” There was a round of laughter, and Daniel assumed his most tweed-and-lectern air. “The historian: In Ancient Egypt, most musicians were intentionally blinded so that they could focus on the music. I think you’d fit right in.”
“Ten!” cried someone in the crowd. Daniel nodded at his tally-keeper and went on.
“The survivalist.” Daniel was up off his stool once more, and something in the way he stood just yelled ‘Marine,’ though Jack was damned if he could see what it was about Daniel that did it. Something in his stance maybe, and the way suddenly his shoulders looked broad. “You must have been quite the Boy Scout-not everyone carries their fire starters on their face.”
“Eleven!” called a scattering of people over the renewed laughter. Man-mountain was turning an interesting shade of purple and Jack was relieved to note that the bartender was keeping just as cautious an eye on him as Jack was.
Daniel was playing to the crowd, ticking off on his fingers and nodding, holding up one finger to signify his last one. “The astronomer,” he said, locking eyes once more with Jack, whose eyebrows felt like they were preparing for take-off.
Daniel took his glasses off his face, held them close to his eyes and then out at arm’s length and exclaimed, “Wow! You can see the craters of the moon through these!”
It was funnier than it should have been-largely because Daniel was pointing his lenses at Man-mountain’s ass and looking comically horrified. It was less funny when Man-mountain lost what was left of his control and tried to take a swing at the archaeologist. Daniel tucked and pivoted in a move Jack would have sworn the linguist had been failing to learn for as long as Jack had been trying to teach it to him. He came out of the maneuver standing next to Jack, and Man-mountain, having over-balanced, was now trying not to topple into the bar itself.
“Okay, Cyrano, bow to your adoring public and let’s go before it turns into swords in the orchard at dawn,” Jack grumbled.
Daniel took his advice-and a sweeping bow-and snickered as they headed for the door amid applause. Jack bit back a grin. Sure, it had been a crap day. But even the worst ones end eventually.
“So Daniel,” Jack said as he steered the other man towards his car and a nice quiet drink at home, “do you have twelve alternate insults I can store up to use on the snakeheads? Or possibly on mouthy archaeologists?”
Daniel’s laughter hung in the air around him like a benediction. Mission accomplished.