The Not-So Private Life of General O'Neill
SERIES: Stargate
WORDS: 404
DESCRIPTION: S/J established. Fluffy ficlette inspired by astraper_aspera mentioning (in a completely unrelated context) Jack in a Hawaiian shirt.
-o-o-o-o-o-o-
They’d been staring at him all morning. Not at his face, of course, ‘cause he outranked every last one of them, but he could feel their stares every time he looked away and practically feel their silent laughter behind his back.
He leaned over the conference table in the Department of Homeworld Security to hand orders to Major Barnes, wishing for the first time in his life to be wearing his service dress uniform. Anything would be better than the Very Loud Hawaiian print shirt he had on over Bermuda shorts which showed off way too much of his legs. Despite having only been recently reassured otherwise, he remained certain his knees were his very worst feature.
Still, several hours after he’d been beamed back to D.C. to deal with the current emergency (and he‘d be observing privately at the very first opportunity that, compared to emergencies they had known, this one was hardly worth rolling out of bed for, but what was these days?), it had become quite clear he wasn’t getting away any time soon. And there was no way he was gonna put up with those stares for very much longer.
Finally, during a lull in the storm of activity filling the office, he turned to his aide. “Walter…?” he began, but the seemingly omniscient tech sergeant was already holding the phone out to him, ringing already clearly audible on the other end of the connection.
-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-
A few minutes later, with a flash of white, Colonel Samantha Carter materialized in the conference room. Which wouldn’t have been that unusual except for the fact that, rather than any uniform ever issued to any member of the US Armed Services, she wore nothing more than a white beach cover-up poorly concealing the hot pink string bikini underneath it.
Carter greeted the assembled officers and bureaucrats, most of whom were attempting to look anywhere in the room but at her. “Here,” she said, handing Jack’s service dress uniform to him. “Don’t be too long…” And then, after a giving him a quick kiss on the cheek, she spoke into the cellphone in her other hand, “Ready.”
There was a second flash of light and she was gone. Jack stepped into his office to change. Maybe they’d think twice before calling him in from leave next time…
But somehow, he rather doubted it.
WORDS: 404
DESCRIPTION: S/J established. Fluffy ficlette inspired by astraper_aspera mentioning (in a completely unrelated context) Jack in a Hawaiian shirt.
-o-o-o-o-o-o-
They’d been staring at him all morning. Not at his face, of course, ‘cause he outranked every last one of them, but he could feel their stares every time he looked away and practically feel their silent laughter behind his back.
He leaned over the conference table in the Department of Homeworld Security to hand orders to Major Barnes, wishing for the first time in his life to be wearing his service dress uniform. Anything would be better than the Very Loud Hawaiian print shirt he had on over Bermuda shorts which showed off way too much of his legs. Despite having only been recently reassured otherwise, he remained certain his knees were his very worst feature.
Still, several hours after he’d been beamed back to D.C. to deal with the current emergency (and he‘d be observing privately at the very first opportunity that, compared to emergencies they had known, this one was hardly worth rolling out of bed for, but what was these days?), it had become quite clear he wasn’t getting away any time soon. And there was no way he was gonna put up with those stares for very much longer.
Finally, during a lull in the storm of activity filling the office, he turned to his aide. “Walter…?” he began, but the seemingly omniscient tech sergeant was already holding the phone out to him, ringing already clearly audible on the other end of the connection.
-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-
A few minutes later, with a flash of white, Colonel Samantha Carter materialized in the conference room. Which wouldn’t have been that unusual except for the fact that, rather than any uniform ever issued to any member of the US Armed Services, she wore nothing more than a white beach cover-up poorly concealing the hot pink string bikini underneath it.
Carter greeted the assembled officers and bureaucrats, most of whom were attempting to look anywhere in the room but at her. “Here,” she said, handing Jack’s service dress uniform to him. “Don’t be too long…” And then, after a giving him a quick kiss on the cheek, she spoke into the cellphone in her other hand, “Ready.”
There was a second flash of light and she was gone. Jack stepped into his office to change. Maybe they’d think twice before calling him in from leave next time…
But somehow, he rather doubted it.