Fic: C is for Crafts
Title: C is for Crafts
Rating: G
Fandom: Stargate: SG-1
Characters/Pairings: Jonas, Sam, Teal'c, Jack; gen
Summary: Attempts are made at artwork and cultural comparisons, with limited success.
Author's Note: written for Jonas Alphabet Soup, a nutritious part of SG-1 Gen Fic Day.
"Are you sure about this?" Sam asked, amusement and apprehension equally apparent in her voice. "You could get some plants, you know. Or an aquarium; fish are supposed to be nice."
"I'm not sure that would be a very good idea," Jonas said. "How am I supposed to take care of them if I go off-world?"
"Maybe a cactus?" Sam suggested.
"No, thanks." Jonas made a face. "The nice thing about being on base is that I'm much less likely to get stabbed."
"Except when you steal the last Jello."
"Oh, Colonel O'Neill wasn't really trying to kill me. I pretty sure of it."
"Maybe he wasn't going to kill you, but this might." Sam looked dubiously at the table.
"It'll be fine," Jonas said confidently. "I used to do this all the time."
"Recently?"
Teal'c entered the room at that moment, saving Jonas from having to answer. "Am I interrupting an experiment?" he asked, raising an eyebrow at the equipment that in the middle of Sam's lab.
"Yes and no," Sam answered. "Jonas was just about to demonstrate some traditional Kelownan metalworking, complete with the grand Kelownan tradition of losing a finger."
"It's not that bad," Jonas protested, but despite this he found that he was starting to become nervous. "I'm going to make some pieces to put in my room. To make it more personal."
"This sounds like a profitable endeavor."
"See?" Jonas grinned. "Teal'c has faith in me!"
"Not precisely, Jonas Quinn. I meant profitable for your audience."
"Thank you, Teal'c, that means a lot to me."
Teal'c just nodded, but Jonas was getting better at spotting the subtleties of his expressions.
"If something goes wrong, I'm blaming you two for distracting me," Jonas told them. Sam elaborately mimed zipping her mouth shut, as he had first seen her do on his first recon mission. At the time, he'd had been confused by the gesture, and by the Colonel's exasperated whisper of "what are we, twelve?" The memory made him smile as he turned back to the space Sam had set up for him.
These weren't familiar tools, by and large, but they were probably close enough to get the job done. It would help if Jonas knew what, exactly, he wanted done. He didn't have a clear idea; he only knew that, for all that he got to explore amazing parts of the galaxy alongside incredible people, there was still something drab in his daily life.
Sam broke her promise of silence, but Jonas hardly minded. His hesitation must have been pretty noticeable at that point. "Where did you even learn this stuff, anyway?"
"School," he shrugged.
"So, shop class is a universal constant," Sam joked. "Though we'd need more than two points of data to extrapolate a pattern. Teal'c?"
"Jaffa warrior are trained in the mending of their armor and weapons."
"Makes sense," Jonas comments. "Though that's really more practical than the sort of thing they taught us."
"Did you have to make cast-iron bird cages?" Sam asked. Her tone was teasing, though Jonas didn't understand what joke she was making. He made a note to ask about it later.
"No, just sculptures and jewelry and things like that. We take our arts very seriously."
Sam smiled. "That's nice." It would have been, too, if it hadn't been used as another point of pride in a nation that desperately needed some humility.
"Yeah, we learned all kinds of arts. Metalwork, cartography, music, embroidery..."
Sam tried to hide a grin. "A bit of advice? Don't tell the Colonel about the embroidery."
Jonas had figured that one out for himself, though it might already have been too late; Teal'c looked like he was plotting something.
"I was never much good at it, anyway." Jonas said. He hadn't been much good at metalwork, either, and hadn't pursued it much outside of his studies.
"What about something more two-dimensional?" Sam asked. "Like painting?"
"No," Jonas laughed. "I mean, sure, you give paints to a little kid, but no one would teach it seriously."
Sam looked from Teal'c to Jonas and back again. "There has to be paint somewhere on base, right?"
"There are many strange things to be found here," Teal'c answered. "This would not be the most unusual."
There were, as it turned out, vast supplies of paint on base, though no one was entirely sure why. Whatever their intended purpose, they were quite good at making a mess in the science labs. By the time Colonel O'Neill found them, there were green and blue fingerprints on the table, Teal'c was sporting an outrageous red goatee, Jonas was trying to scrub the paint out of his hair, and Sam was putting the finishing touches on a stick-figure portrait of SG-1.
Jack peered over Sam's shoulder at her painting. "Is that one supposed to be me?" he pointed.
"Did the fishing rod give it away, sir?" she asked.
"Possibly. But you've got it all wrong. I'm taller than that. And more handsome."
Jonas tilted his head. "How can you even tell if a stick figure is handsome?"
"All the stick figure women check him out," Jack answered.
Sam rolled her eyes. "And gossip about how full of himself he is."
Jack ignored that one, and just griped, "You guys could have waited for me before starting this little party."
"You're right, it's not fair that we left you out," Jonas grinned at Teal'c brightly. "What do you think?"
"I think we must help him to catch up on all that he has missed," Teal'c answered solemnly, and the two of them raised their paintbrushes menacingly.
"Ah-ah-ah, no." Jack dove behind a table and grasped a nearby tube of paint. "Stay back! I fight dirty."
"Indeed," Teal'c nodded. "It will be a glorious battle.
"Indeed," Jonas echoed. He was having a hard time remembering how anything around this place could seem drab.
Rating: G
Fandom: Stargate: SG-1
Characters/Pairings: Jonas, Sam, Teal'c, Jack; gen
Summary: Attempts are made at artwork and cultural comparisons, with limited success.
Author's Note: written for Jonas Alphabet Soup, a nutritious part of SG-1 Gen Fic Day.
"Are you sure about this?" Sam asked, amusement and apprehension equally apparent in her voice. "You could get some plants, you know. Or an aquarium; fish are supposed to be nice."
"I'm not sure that would be a very good idea," Jonas said. "How am I supposed to take care of them if I go off-world?"
"Maybe a cactus?" Sam suggested.
"No, thanks." Jonas made a face. "The nice thing about being on base is that I'm much less likely to get stabbed."
"Except when you steal the last Jello."
"Oh, Colonel O'Neill wasn't really trying to kill me. I pretty sure of it."
"Maybe he wasn't going to kill you, but this might." Sam looked dubiously at the table.
"It'll be fine," Jonas said confidently. "I used to do this all the time."
"Recently?"
Teal'c entered the room at that moment, saving Jonas from having to answer. "Am I interrupting an experiment?" he asked, raising an eyebrow at the equipment that in the middle of Sam's lab.
"Yes and no," Sam answered. "Jonas was just about to demonstrate some traditional Kelownan metalworking, complete with the grand Kelownan tradition of losing a finger."
"It's not that bad," Jonas protested, but despite this he found that he was starting to become nervous. "I'm going to make some pieces to put in my room. To make it more personal."
"This sounds like a profitable endeavor."
"See?" Jonas grinned. "Teal'c has faith in me!"
"Not precisely, Jonas Quinn. I meant profitable for your audience."
"Thank you, Teal'c, that means a lot to me."
Teal'c just nodded, but Jonas was getting better at spotting the subtleties of his expressions.
"If something goes wrong, I'm blaming you two for distracting me," Jonas told them. Sam elaborately mimed zipping her mouth shut, as he had first seen her do on his first recon mission. At the time, he'd had been confused by the gesture, and by the Colonel's exasperated whisper of "what are we, twelve?" The memory made him smile as he turned back to the space Sam had set up for him.
These weren't familiar tools, by and large, but they were probably close enough to get the job done. It would help if Jonas knew what, exactly, he wanted done. He didn't have a clear idea; he only knew that, for all that he got to explore amazing parts of the galaxy alongside incredible people, there was still something drab in his daily life.
Sam broke her promise of silence, but Jonas hardly minded. His hesitation must have been pretty noticeable at that point. "Where did you even learn this stuff, anyway?"
"School," he shrugged.
"So, shop class is a universal constant," Sam joked. "Though we'd need more than two points of data to extrapolate a pattern. Teal'c?"
"Jaffa warrior are trained in the mending of their armor and weapons."
"Makes sense," Jonas comments. "Though that's really more practical than the sort of thing they taught us."
"Did you have to make cast-iron bird cages?" Sam asked. Her tone was teasing, though Jonas didn't understand what joke she was making. He made a note to ask about it later.
"No, just sculptures and jewelry and things like that. We take our arts very seriously."
Sam smiled. "That's nice." It would have been, too, if it hadn't been used as another point of pride in a nation that desperately needed some humility.
"Yeah, we learned all kinds of arts. Metalwork, cartography, music, embroidery..."
Sam tried to hide a grin. "A bit of advice? Don't tell the Colonel about the embroidery."
Jonas had figured that one out for himself, though it might already have been too late; Teal'c looked like he was plotting something.
"I was never much good at it, anyway." Jonas said. He hadn't been much good at metalwork, either, and hadn't pursued it much outside of his studies.
"What about something more two-dimensional?" Sam asked. "Like painting?"
"No," Jonas laughed. "I mean, sure, you give paints to a little kid, but no one would teach it seriously."
Sam looked from Teal'c to Jonas and back again. "There has to be paint somewhere on base, right?"
"There are many strange things to be found here," Teal'c answered. "This would not be the most unusual."
There were, as it turned out, vast supplies of paint on base, though no one was entirely sure why. Whatever their intended purpose, they were quite good at making a mess in the science labs. By the time Colonel O'Neill found them, there were green and blue fingerprints on the table, Teal'c was sporting an outrageous red goatee, Jonas was trying to scrub the paint out of his hair, and Sam was putting the finishing touches on a stick-figure portrait of SG-1.
Jack peered over Sam's shoulder at her painting. "Is that one supposed to be me?" he pointed.
"Did the fishing rod give it away, sir?" she asked.
"Possibly. But you've got it all wrong. I'm taller than that. And more handsome."
Jonas tilted his head. "How can you even tell if a stick figure is handsome?"
"All the stick figure women check him out," Jack answered.
Sam rolled her eyes. "And gossip about how full of himself he is."
Jack ignored that one, and just griped, "You guys could have waited for me before starting this little party."
"You're right, it's not fair that we left you out," Jonas grinned at Teal'c brightly. "What do you think?"
"I think we must help him to catch up on all that he has missed," Teal'c answered solemnly, and the two of them raised their paintbrushes menacingly.
"Ah-ah-ah, no." Jack dove behind a table and grasped a nearby tube of paint. "Stay back! I fight dirty."
"Indeed," Teal'c nodded. "It will be a glorious battle.
"Indeed," Jonas echoed. He was having a hard time remembering how anything around this place could seem drab.