ficpost: "Join the Chorus" Jack/Daniel/Sam
Title: "Join the Chorus"
Fandom: Stargate: SG-1
Pairing: Jack/Daniel(/Sam)
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers/Timeline: Sometime between FiaD and "Meridian"
Notes: For woe_tilv in this year's Stargate_santa. Elements incorporated from her wishlist: Jack, Jack/Sam, Jack/Daniel, threesome, romance, sap, happy ending. I am very sorry this is so late. One more down, three more to go!
Disclaimer: They are so completely not mine, and if they were, I'd give them to each other.
Summary: Sam is ill, and Jack and Daniel comfort her.
Words: 1040
Join the Chorus
"I'm worried, that's all I'm saying. I'm worried."
"I'm worried too," Jack says. "Do you think I don't worry?"
"I think you didn't notice."
Jack glares. "Daniel. It's o'eight-hundred and Carter's nowhere to be seen. You think I didn't notice?"
"Well, I thought maybe..."
"Daniel. I noticed."
"I've noticed you noticing Carter."
"Right now, I'm noticing her absence. And I'm worried."
"I'm calling her cell."
"I'm calling her house."
"I'm sick as a dog, Daniel. Don't you dare -"
"This is O'Neill."
"Oh." There's a silent fuck they can all hear. "Sorry, sir. I don't think I can make it in today..."
"Need anything?"
"Rest," Sam says, and hangs up.
Daniel gives Jack a Look that says, "Hey, you blew that one," and Jack shrugs helplessly. "We should do something for her."
"Soup," Daniel says, and they both contemplate the idea of trying to make soup that'll heal Sam, not kill her. "Okay, not soup. Flowers."
"Don't want to give her the wrong idea," Jack says, and that makes Daniel's eyebrow go straight up.
"The wrong idea? The idea that we're her teammates and we care about her is the wrong idea?"
"Just sayin', maybe we don't want her to think we care..."
"We do," Daniel says quietly, and that's the end of that, since of course, they do. They always have.
++
Sam rolls over, away from the phone, away from the Colonel and Daniel and their well-meaning wishes, towards the waste-paper basket that she's about to throw up in again. She hasn't had anything to eat, not even chicken soup, for twenty-four hours, so she has no idea what's left in her system to be thrown up, but urgh, there it goes, another batch of stomach juices on top of shredded credit card receipts. If she weren't so sick, she'd be dwelling on the phone call from the Colonel, but she's too sick to dwell, and files it away top secret: to be reviewed later.
She doesn't have nearly enough energy to close the curtains tighter, so she lets the sunlight kill her. She gropes for the bottle of painkiller that hasn't left her side, but remembers when she gets her thumb on the cap that she used the last one three hours ago. That at least is worth a moan.
++
"Sam!" Daniel throws open the curtains with his free hand before looking around for a vase to wrestle the flowers into. "How are you feeling?"
"Go'way," she mutters.
Jack sits on the bed and presses a hand to her forehead. "Feverish," he says. "Better get the thermometer, Daniel."
"Go way," Sam insists.
"C'mon, Major. Buck up. We're here to take care of you."
Sam manages a full sentence. "Don't you have work to do?"
"We do, actually," Daniel begins.
"But we decided we'd rather watch paint dry," Jack cuts in.
"Which is Jack's way of saying we care about you."
"Thanks but..."
"Maybe we should've brought soup," Daniel says.
Sam tosses an arm somewhere in the direction of her garbage can; that's where anything they feed her will end up.
"See?" Jack says. "Cooking for women is never a good idea."
"Sha're..." Daniel begins, but thinks better of it. With Jack it's never the right time for talking; maybe with Sam... but not right now. He joins Jack and Sam on the bed.
Sam rolls over, remembering somewhat belatedly that she doesn't want to contaminate her friends. She sneezes, and Daniel presses a tissue to her nose.
"You'll get sick..." she mumbles.
"So? Means we won't have to do paperwork," Jack says.
"Do you ever do paperwork?"
"Let's not speak of such things. We're among the sick; we should be respectful."
Sam coughs, and someone pushes the waste-paper basket under her chin. She waves it away. Not going to throw up, just...
"You okay?" Daniel asks, and she tries to shake her head, but the hand on her shoulder prevents her.
"Thanks, but..."
"You trying to tell us something?"
"Go 'way?" she guesses.
"No can do. There's paperwork at the mountain exerting a negative magnetic influence on me."
"You realize that makes no sense?"
"Shh. I'm trying to lull Carter to sleep."
"So you're telling her scientific fairy tales?"
"Exactly. Once upon there were two, uh, atoms, who loved each other very much..."
"Shu'up." If she were feeling stronger, she'd try to hit him, but all she manages is a weak punch that's almost a caress, definitely not what she had in mind.
"Jack, I think your second's trying to tell you something."
"Since when do you call Sam my 'second'?"
"Since when do you call Major Carter 'Sam'?"
"Since I spend valuable downtime at her house, soothing her brow with cold compresses."
"You wouldn't know a cold compress if it hit you on the..."
"Why don't we leave references to my hindquarters out of this? I'm feeling uncomfortable enough sitting my ass on Carter's bed without you mentioning it."
"Jack?"
"Daniel?"
"I think you just shot yourself in the foot."
From beneath her mountain of blankets, Sam made a sound somewhere between a laugh and a cough.
"I'll go get some orange juice," Jack says, removing himself abruptly from the bed.
Sam writhes, and Daniel shoots Jack a glance that means he'd better sit his ass back on the bed and they can Talk About This Later but right now, Sam wants him there and Sam is sick so Jack had better stay with her. Daniel's looks have a way of speaking volumes, probably because he spends so much time with his eyes glued to his books, and Jack knows better than to argue with the Jackson Glare. So he sits. Puts a hand on Sam's back and starts rubbing, closes his eyes and forgets that it's Sam he's massaging, and elicits a moan that's more pleasure than discomfort.
"Thanks," Sam says weakly.
Jack waits for Daniel's you're welcome, then realizes the gratitude's for him. He sighs, and holds his hands steady on Carter's back. Daniel rests his chin on Jack's shoulder and adds his breath to the chorus, and Sam sighs with them.
Fandom: Stargate: SG-1
Pairing: Jack/Daniel(/Sam)
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers/Timeline: Sometime between FiaD and "Meridian"
Notes: For woe_tilv in this year's Stargate_santa. Elements incorporated from her wishlist: Jack, Jack/Sam, Jack/Daniel, threesome, romance, sap, happy ending. I am very sorry this is so late. One more down, three more to go!
Disclaimer: They are so completely not mine, and if they were, I'd give them to each other.
Summary: Sam is ill, and Jack and Daniel comfort her.
Words: 1040
Join the Chorus
"I'm worried, that's all I'm saying. I'm worried."
"I'm worried too," Jack says. "Do you think I don't worry?"
"I think you didn't notice."
Jack glares. "Daniel. It's o'eight-hundred and Carter's nowhere to be seen. You think I didn't notice?"
"Well, I thought maybe..."
"Daniel. I noticed."
"I've noticed you noticing Carter."
"Right now, I'm noticing her absence. And I'm worried."
"I'm calling her cell."
"I'm calling her house."
"I'm sick as a dog, Daniel. Don't you dare -"
"This is O'Neill."
"Oh." There's a silent fuck they can all hear. "Sorry, sir. I don't think I can make it in today..."
"Need anything?"
"Rest," Sam says, and hangs up.
Daniel gives Jack a Look that says, "Hey, you blew that one," and Jack shrugs helplessly. "We should do something for her."
"Soup," Daniel says, and they both contemplate the idea of trying to make soup that'll heal Sam, not kill her. "Okay, not soup. Flowers."
"Don't want to give her the wrong idea," Jack says, and that makes Daniel's eyebrow go straight up.
"The wrong idea? The idea that we're her teammates and we care about her is the wrong idea?"
"Just sayin', maybe we don't want her to think we care..."
"We do," Daniel says quietly, and that's the end of that, since of course, they do. They always have.
++
Sam rolls over, away from the phone, away from the Colonel and Daniel and their well-meaning wishes, towards the waste-paper basket that she's about to throw up in again. She hasn't had anything to eat, not even chicken soup, for twenty-four hours, so she has no idea what's left in her system to be thrown up, but urgh, there it goes, another batch of stomach juices on top of shredded credit card receipts. If she weren't so sick, she'd be dwelling on the phone call from the Colonel, but she's too sick to dwell, and files it away top secret: to be reviewed later.
She doesn't have nearly enough energy to close the curtains tighter, so she lets the sunlight kill her. She gropes for the bottle of painkiller that hasn't left her side, but remembers when she gets her thumb on the cap that she used the last one three hours ago. That at least is worth a moan.
++
"Sam!" Daniel throws open the curtains with his free hand before looking around for a vase to wrestle the flowers into. "How are you feeling?"
"Go'way," she mutters.
Jack sits on the bed and presses a hand to her forehead. "Feverish," he says. "Better get the thermometer, Daniel."
"Go way," Sam insists.
"C'mon, Major. Buck up. We're here to take care of you."
Sam manages a full sentence. "Don't you have work to do?"
"We do, actually," Daniel begins.
"But we decided we'd rather watch paint dry," Jack cuts in.
"Which is Jack's way of saying we care about you."
"Thanks but..."
"Maybe we should've brought soup," Daniel says.
Sam tosses an arm somewhere in the direction of her garbage can; that's where anything they feed her will end up.
"See?" Jack says. "Cooking for women is never a good idea."
"Sha're..." Daniel begins, but thinks better of it. With Jack it's never the right time for talking; maybe with Sam... but not right now. He joins Jack and Sam on the bed.
Sam rolls over, remembering somewhat belatedly that she doesn't want to contaminate her friends. She sneezes, and Daniel presses a tissue to her nose.
"You'll get sick..." she mumbles.
"So? Means we won't have to do paperwork," Jack says.
"Do you ever do paperwork?"
"Let's not speak of such things. We're among the sick; we should be respectful."
Sam coughs, and someone pushes the waste-paper basket under her chin. She waves it away. Not going to throw up, just...
"You okay?" Daniel asks, and she tries to shake her head, but the hand on her shoulder prevents her.
"Thanks, but..."
"You trying to tell us something?"
"Go 'way?" she guesses.
"No can do. There's paperwork at the mountain exerting a negative magnetic influence on me."
"You realize that makes no sense?"
"Shh. I'm trying to lull Carter to sleep."
"So you're telling her scientific fairy tales?"
"Exactly. Once upon there were two, uh, atoms, who loved each other very much..."
"Shu'up." If she were feeling stronger, she'd try to hit him, but all she manages is a weak punch that's almost a caress, definitely not what she had in mind.
"Jack, I think your second's trying to tell you something."
"Since when do you call Sam my 'second'?"
"Since when do you call Major Carter 'Sam'?"
"Since I spend valuable downtime at her house, soothing her brow with cold compresses."
"You wouldn't know a cold compress if it hit you on the..."
"Why don't we leave references to my hindquarters out of this? I'm feeling uncomfortable enough sitting my ass on Carter's bed without you mentioning it."
"Jack?"
"Daniel?"
"I think you just shot yourself in the foot."
From beneath her mountain of blankets, Sam made a sound somewhere between a laugh and a cough.
"I'll go get some orange juice," Jack says, removing himself abruptly from the bed.
Sam writhes, and Daniel shoots Jack a glance that means he'd better sit his ass back on the bed and they can Talk About This Later but right now, Sam wants him there and Sam is sick so Jack had better stay with her. Daniel's looks have a way of speaking volumes, probably because he spends so much time with his eyes glued to his books, and Jack knows better than to argue with the Jackson Glare. So he sits. Puts a hand on Sam's back and starts rubbing, closes his eyes and forgets that it's Sam he's massaging, and elicits a moan that's more pleasure than discomfort.
"Thanks," Sam says weakly.
Jack waits for Daniel's you're welcome, then realizes the gratitude's for him. He sighs, and holds his hands steady on Carter's back. Daniel rests his chin on Jack's shoulder and adds his breath to the chorus, and Sam sighs with them.