In Time: Motherly
Title: Motherly
Summary: Sam gives Jack a special brand of ‘motherly’ love.
Timeframe: Before and after ‘Ten Again.’
Characters/Pairing: Established SJ
Genre: Humor, General
Rating: G
Motherly
Sam knew that Jack could act like a child at the best of times, but this was just ridiculous. She watched him emerge from the gate, poking Daniel repeatedly in the arm and making faces at him for nearly five minutes before Teal’c briefly explained to her what had happened.
Pulling Daniel aside after the briefing, while Jack was occupied by Janet’s tests in the infirmary, Sam narrowed her eyes and crossed her arms before speaking. “He thinks he’s TEN?!” she exclaimed.
Grimacing sheepishly, Daniel gave a helpless shrug. “How was I supposed to know that NOT touching something would have that kind of effect?”
Sam heaved a sigh and glared harder. Her eyes were like cold blue steel.
“The elders said it wears off,” Daniel tried, a tentative smile on his face.
“Ugh.” Shaking her head, Sam rolled her eyes and stormed away. “I’d better go rescue Janet.”
“If it makes you feel any better, when we showed him his reflection he screamed and kicked me in the shin!” She heard Daniel call after her. “And it still hurts!”
-
So far, it hadn’t been that difficult finding ways to keep him occupied. Sam had used the same things to distract Jack from bothering her when he was in his right mind; The Simpsons, PlayStation games, his yo-yo, MAD Magazine, a GameBoy, and crossword puzzles. It worked for a little while.
Around dinner time, Jack was complaining he was hungry, so Sam took him to the commissary, hoping that they could just get some food and head back to the VIP suite. Sam didn’t want to spend any time awkwardly trying to socialize with anyone while Jack was blowing bubbles in his chocolate milk. Lunch had been bad enough, and she seriously doubted that any of the Airmen present would soon forget Colonel O’Neill’s little ‘I gotta pee’ dance.
The entire base wasn’t apprised of her husband’s ‘condition,’ and Janet had suggested minimalizing his contact with anyone outside of herself, Hammond, and SG-1. So far Sam hadn’t been very successful sticking to that plan, by no fault of her own.
“Can I have pizza, and mac n’ cheese, and tuna, and chicken fingers, and chocolate cake?” Jack asked hopefully when they reached the food line.
Sam tried to ignore the look one of the marines in line was giving her and turned to Jack. “Are you really that hungry?”
“Yeah.” He nodded, then looked down at himself and patted his stomach. “My stomach’s gotta be grown up and big, so I can eat more now, right?”
She wasn’t really able to argue with that logic, and actually found it quite amusing. “If you think you’re going to eat all that, go ahead.” She didn’t really care what he ate, she just wanted to get the hell out of the commissary, and fast!
Jack was grinning as he collected the food onto his tray, grabbing a jug of milk at the end of the line and following Sam.
-
Much to Sam’s surprise, Jack DID eat all the food he’d piled on his tray; and promptly threw it all up half an hour later.
“Alright Jack, I think it’s time for you to get in the shower and get ready for bed.” Sam said as she cleaned up the remains of her own dinner from the table in the VIP room.
“I don’t want a bath!” Jack exclaimed loudly, hopping on the couch and turning on the TV.
Sam heaved an exasperated sigh. “Jack, you’re a mess! You’re taking a shower.”
“No!” he protested, throwing a blanket over his head.
Striding toward her man-child determinedly, Sam snatched the blanket away from him and grabbed the collar of his t-shirt, dragging him off the couch. “You stink of vomit, and you’ve got chocolate frosting all over you; now get in the bathroom.” When he blinked at her with that innocent, childish look, Sam steeled her resolve and used her best commanding tone. “You’ve got thirty seconds to get in that bathroom, Johnathan J. O’Neill.”
He pulled out of Sam’s grasp, then scrambled off the couch and made an awkward, clumsy dash to the en suite, nearly tripping over his own feet as he went. He may not have remembered who his mother was in his current state, but he sure knew a mother’s tone when he heard it.
Sam followed after him, reaching into the shower to turn on the water, making sure the temperature was satisfactory before retreating back into the main room when Jack tried to ‘shoo’ her away, obviously not wanting to undress while she was there. Sam found it quite amusing, and was nearly tempted to tell Jack that she was his wife, just to see his reaction.
When she’d finished cleaning up the room and laying out some of Jack’s pajamas that she’d brought from home, Sam left to get some ginger ale from the commissary to help settle his stomach in case he was still feeling queasy. She asked an SF out in the corridor to keep an eye on the room in case Jack was finished with his shower before Sam got back.
-
Jack was still in the bathroom when Sam returned, but she didn’t hear the water running. Curious, she crept up to the door and listened, hearing Jack talking to himself and grunting, saying things like, “Cool,” “Whoa,” and “Rrr!”
Wondering what her ten-year-old husband was doing in there, Sam carefully pushed the door open half an inch. She nearly laughed out loud when she peered inside and saw Jack’s reflection in the mirror. His skin and hair were both damp and steaming from his recent shower, and he was flexing his arms and making faces in the mirror.
Sam was forced to put a hand over her mouth to smother her laughter, and she absently wondered if this was what her husband normally did when he got out of the shower and she wasn’t around.
She wished she had a camera.
When Jack continued his body-builder posing and managed to flex his pecs one at a time, Sam thought, God, this is too much!
Pushing the door open all the way, Sam found it very difficult not to laugh. “Jack, what are you doing?”
His eyebrows popped up and he let out a very undignified squeak of surprise. Jack nearly jumped out of his boxer shorts in shock, scrambling to hide his underwear from view with less-than adequately-sized hands. “SAM!” he squeaked again.
She just rolled her eyes, giggling softly and suppressing the urge to tell him she’d seen him in his underwear before. Less, actually, but she wouldn’t go there either.
Cheeks flaming red in embarrassment, Jack ran past Sam and hurried toward the bed where he must have seen the clothes she put there. He dressed quickly and clumsily, glaring at Sam when she came over and sat down on the edge of the bed, crossing her arms with a smirk on her face.
“It’s not funny,” Jack muttered grumpily, shoving his hands into the pockets of his sweatpants and stomping toward the couch.
Sam just kept smiling and giggling softly, shaking her head as she quietly said to herself, “Maybe not to you.” She couldn’t wait to tell Jack about his exploits when he was back to being himself again.
-
Summary: Sam gives Jack a special brand of ‘motherly’ love.
Timeframe: Before and after ‘Ten Again.’
Characters/Pairing: Established SJ
Genre: Humor, General
Rating: G
Motherly
Sam knew that Jack could act like a child at the best of times, but this was just ridiculous. She watched him emerge from the gate, poking Daniel repeatedly in the arm and making faces at him for nearly five minutes before Teal’c briefly explained to her what had happened.
Pulling Daniel aside after the briefing, while Jack was occupied by Janet’s tests in the infirmary, Sam narrowed her eyes and crossed her arms before speaking. “He thinks he’s TEN?!” she exclaimed.
Grimacing sheepishly, Daniel gave a helpless shrug. “How was I supposed to know that NOT touching something would have that kind of effect?”
Sam heaved a sigh and glared harder. Her eyes were like cold blue steel.
“The elders said it wears off,” Daniel tried, a tentative smile on his face.
“Ugh.” Shaking her head, Sam rolled her eyes and stormed away. “I’d better go rescue Janet.”
“If it makes you feel any better, when we showed him his reflection he screamed and kicked me in the shin!” She heard Daniel call after her. “And it still hurts!”
-
So far, it hadn’t been that difficult finding ways to keep him occupied. Sam had used the same things to distract Jack from bothering her when he was in his right mind; The Simpsons, PlayStation games, his yo-yo, MAD Magazine, a GameBoy, and crossword puzzles. It worked for a little while.
Around dinner time, Jack was complaining he was hungry, so Sam took him to the commissary, hoping that they could just get some food and head back to the VIP suite. Sam didn’t want to spend any time awkwardly trying to socialize with anyone while Jack was blowing bubbles in his chocolate milk. Lunch had been bad enough, and she seriously doubted that any of the Airmen present would soon forget Colonel O’Neill’s little ‘I gotta pee’ dance.
The entire base wasn’t apprised of her husband’s ‘condition,’ and Janet had suggested minimalizing his contact with anyone outside of herself, Hammond, and SG-1. So far Sam hadn’t been very successful sticking to that plan, by no fault of her own.
“Can I have pizza, and mac n’ cheese, and tuna, and chicken fingers, and chocolate cake?” Jack asked hopefully when they reached the food line.
Sam tried to ignore the look one of the marines in line was giving her and turned to Jack. “Are you really that hungry?”
“Yeah.” He nodded, then looked down at himself and patted his stomach. “My stomach’s gotta be grown up and big, so I can eat more now, right?”
She wasn’t really able to argue with that logic, and actually found it quite amusing. “If you think you’re going to eat all that, go ahead.” She didn’t really care what he ate, she just wanted to get the hell out of the commissary, and fast!
Jack was grinning as he collected the food onto his tray, grabbing a jug of milk at the end of the line and following Sam.
-
Much to Sam’s surprise, Jack DID eat all the food he’d piled on his tray; and promptly threw it all up half an hour later.
“Alright Jack, I think it’s time for you to get in the shower and get ready for bed.” Sam said as she cleaned up the remains of her own dinner from the table in the VIP room.
“I don’t want a bath!” Jack exclaimed loudly, hopping on the couch and turning on the TV.
Sam heaved an exasperated sigh. “Jack, you’re a mess! You’re taking a shower.”
“No!” he protested, throwing a blanket over his head.
Striding toward her man-child determinedly, Sam snatched the blanket away from him and grabbed the collar of his t-shirt, dragging him off the couch. “You stink of vomit, and you’ve got chocolate frosting all over you; now get in the bathroom.” When he blinked at her with that innocent, childish look, Sam steeled her resolve and used her best commanding tone. “You’ve got thirty seconds to get in that bathroom, Johnathan J. O’Neill.”
He pulled out of Sam’s grasp, then scrambled off the couch and made an awkward, clumsy dash to the en suite, nearly tripping over his own feet as he went. He may not have remembered who his mother was in his current state, but he sure knew a mother’s tone when he heard it.
Sam followed after him, reaching into the shower to turn on the water, making sure the temperature was satisfactory before retreating back into the main room when Jack tried to ‘shoo’ her away, obviously not wanting to undress while she was there. Sam found it quite amusing, and was nearly tempted to tell Jack that she was his wife, just to see his reaction.
When she’d finished cleaning up the room and laying out some of Jack’s pajamas that she’d brought from home, Sam left to get some ginger ale from the commissary to help settle his stomach in case he was still feeling queasy. She asked an SF out in the corridor to keep an eye on the room in case Jack was finished with his shower before Sam got back.
-
Jack was still in the bathroom when Sam returned, but she didn’t hear the water running. Curious, she crept up to the door and listened, hearing Jack talking to himself and grunting, saying things like, “Cool,” “Whoa,” and “Rrr!”
Wondering what her ten-year-old husband was doing in there, Sam carefully pushed the door open half an inch. She nearly laughed out loud when she peered inside and saw Jack’s reflection in the mirror. His skin and hair were both damp and steaming from his recent shower, and he was flexing his arms and making faces in the mirror.
Sam was forced to put a hand over her mouth to smother her laughter, and she absently wondered if this was what her husband normally did when he got out of the shower and she wasn’t around.
She wished she had a camera.
When Jack continued his body-builder posing and managed to flex his pecs one at a time, Sam thought, God, this is too much!
Pushing the door open all the way, Sam found it very difficult not to laugh. “Jack, what are you doing?”
His eyebrows popped up and he let out a very undignified squeak of surprise. Jack nearly jumped out of his boxer shorts in shock, scrambling to hide his underwear from view with less-than adequately-sized hands. “SAM!” he squeaked again.
She just rolled her eyes, giggling softly and suppressing the urge to tell him she’d seen him in his underwear before. Less, actually, but she wouldn’t go there either.
Cheeks flaming red in embarrassment, Jack ran past Sam and hurried toward the bed where he must have seen the clothes she put there. He dressed quickly and clumsily, glaring at Sam when she came over and sat down on the edge of the bed, crossing her arms with a smirk on her face.
“It’s not funny,” Jack muttered grumpily, shoving his hands into the pockets of his sweatpants and stomping toward the couch.
Sam just kept smiling and giggling softly, shaking her head as she quietly said to herself, “Maybe not to you.” She couldn’t wait to tell Jack about his exploits when he was back to being himself again.
-