C is for Coffee
Written as back-up for Jacob Alphabet Soup.
Summary: "You gave up coffee for your symbiote?" Jacob brings his real taste of Earth back to Vorash. Set in late S2, right after Show and Tell. ~625 words. Rated G.
C is for Coffee
Jacob swirled the cup with a forlorn air, breathing in the rich, heavy aroma that curled tantalizingly upwards.
But I like coffee, he thought plaintively, suspecting that the words would have a distinct whine if he said them aloud.
You like the effects of caffeine, corrected the dry voice in his head.
No, Jacob said, setting the cup on the crystalline table in his quarters. I like the taste. I like the smell. I like coffee.
The aroma is most pleasing, Selmac conceded. The taste, however, is not.
They're my taste buds, Jacob complained.
Which I now share with you, Jacob.
Five months of being a Tok'ra with no access to coffee. After all, he hadn't come through the Stargate with any personal supplies outside the BDUs they gave him in place of his hospital scrubs. As an unabashed coffee addict, he'd been vaguely surprised when he didn't suffer any withdrawal symptoms in his first days offword. Still, he supposed that a symbiote capable of curing cancer and fixing arthritic knees would have little trouble tweaking his seratonin levels and adjusting his neurotransmitters to avoid caffeine-induced crankiness.
Then that business with the Reetou brought him to Earth again, and George pressed the small, precious package of freshly-ground beans into his hands right before he returned to the Tok'ra base. There weren't any coffemakers on Vorash, of course, but Jacob had little trouble rigging a steam-driven espresso machine with the crystal from a broken ribbon device, a zat, and some creative manipulation of Tok'ra crystal technology.
Coffee.
Selmac was amused at the way Jacob turned that first brewed cup into a ritual, carrying it to the table with an almost reverential air. He spent several moments with his eyes closed in concentration, fingers curled around the cup's warmth, inhaling the strong, heavy scent with deep anticipation. Then he picked up the cup, raised it to George and Sam and the rest of her team in silent salute, and took that first appreciative sip.
But as the bitter brew caressed his taste buds, Selmac's reaction was swift, violent, and absolute: the symbiote hated it.
Jacob nearly choked as he swallowed. He couldn't believe it. He'd eaten all sorts of alien food and drink since he'd become Selmac's host with barely a quiver, and now he was getting a bad reaction to coffee?
I am sorry, Selmac murmured in his mind. I do not wish to deprive you of what is clearly a great pleasure for you, Jacob. But there is something about coffee that I truly dislike.
It's not the caffeine, is it?
Of course not. I can stimulate the same endorphins in your body without the need for you to ingest caffeine. It is the taste, Jacob.
Jacob stared at the barely-touched coffee cup. Maybe you just need to get used to it, he thought hopefully.
Perhaps. The noncommittal answer held little enthusiasm.
Jacob took a second, more tentative sip, trying to project his enjoyment of the taste and all the pleasant memories it evoked. But he could still sense the uneasy prickle in the back of his mind as Selmac actually cringed at the sensation.
Is it really so awful for you? Jacob wondered.
I am afraid so.
How could he enjoy coffee when every sip would make Selmac miserable?
He glanced wistfully at the open bag of ground beans lying next to his makeshift espresso machine. It had been so considerate of George to think of coffee....
And now, Jacob knew, he would never be able to drink it again.
He sighed, giving the coffee cup a last, longing look. I'm going to be impossibly grumpy, he warned Selmac.
Laughter echoed in his brain. That's all right, Jacob, Selmac snorted. You already are.
Summary: "You gave up coffee for your symbiote?" Jacob brings his real taste of Earth back to Vorash. Set in late S2, right after Show and Tell. ~625 words. Rated G.
C is for Coffee
Jacob swirled the cup with a forlorn air, breathing in the rich, heavy aroma that curled tantalizingly upwards.
But I like coffee, he thought plaintively, suspecting that the words would have a distinct whine if he said them aloud.
You like the effects of caffeine, corrected the dry voice in his head.
No, Jacob said, setting the cup on the crystalline table in his quarters. I like the taste. I like the smell. I like coffee.
The aroma is most pleasing, Selmac conceded. The taste, however, is not.
They're my taste buds, Jacob complained.
Which I now share with you, Jacob.
Five months of being a Tok'ra with no access to coffee. After all, he hadn't come through the Stargate with any personal supplies outside the BDUs they gave him in place of his hospital scrubs. As an unabashed coffee addict, he'd been vaguely surprised when he didn't suffer any withdrawal symptoms in his first days offword. Still, he supposed that a symbiote capable of curing cancer and fixing arthritic knees would have little trouble tweaking his seratonin levels and adjusting his neurotransmitters to avoid caffeine-induced crankiness.
Then that business with the Reetou brought him to Earth again, and George pressed the small, precious package of freshly-ground beans into his hands right before he returned to the Tok'ra base. There weren't any coffemakers on Vorash, of course, but Jacob had little trouble rigging a steam-driven espresso machine with the crystal from a broken ribbon device, a zat, and some creative manipulation of Tok'ra crystal technology.
Coffee.
Selmac was amused at the way Jacob turned that first brewed cup into a ritual, carrying it to the table with an almost reverential air. He spent several moments with his eyes closed in concentration, fingers curled around the cup's warmth, inhaling the strong, heavy scent with deep anticipation. Then he picked up the cup, raised it to George and Sam and the rest of her team in silent salute, and took that first appreciative sip.
But as the bitter brew caressed his taste buds, Selmac's reaction was swift, violent, and absolute: the symbiote hated it.
Jacob nearly choked as he swallowed. He couldn't believe it. He'd eaten all sorts of alien food and drink since he'd become Selmac's host with barely a quiver, and now he was getting a bad reaction to coffee?
I am sorry, Selmac murmured in his mind. I do not wish to deprive you of what is clearly a great pleasure for you, Jacob. But there is something about coffee that I truly dislike.
It's not the caffeine, is it?
Of course not. I can stimulate the same endorphins in your body without the need for you to ingest caffeine. It is the taste, Jacob.
Jacob stared at the barely-touched coffee cup. Maybe you just need to get used to it, he thought hopefully.
Perhaps. The noncommittal answer held little enthusiasm.
Jacob took a second, more tentative sip, trying to project his enjoyment of the taste and all the pleasant memories it evoked. But he could still sense the uneasy prickle in the back of his mind as Selmac actually cringed at the sensation.
Is it really so awful for you? Jacob wondered.
I am afraid so.
How could he enjoy coffee when every sip would make Selmac miserable?
He glanced wistfully at the open bag of ground beans lying next to his makeshift espresso machine. It had been so considerate of George to think of coffee....
And now, Jacob knew, he would never be able to drink it again.
He sighed, giving the coffee cup a last, longing look. I'm going to be impossibly grumpy, he warned Selmac.
Laughter echoed in his brain. That's all right, Jacob, Selmac snorted. You already are.