|Of Toilets and Drinking Songs
Author: Annerb PM
Oh, you know the drill, alien influence and then wackiness ensues! In answer to the August GMC Challenge. Sam/JackRated: Fiction T - English - Humor - S. Carter - Words: 2,647 - Reviews: 16 - Favs: 19 - Follows: 3 - Published: 08-22-05 - Status: Complete - id: 2546574
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
Of Toilets and Drinking Songs
Summary: Oh, you know the drill, alien influence and then wackiness ensues!
Classifications: Humor, Challenge, S/J
Disclaimer: The characters mentioned in this story are the property of Showtime and Gekko Film Corp. The Stargate, SG-1, the Goa'uld and all other characters who have appeared in the series STARGATE SG-1 together with the names, titles and backstory are the sole copyright property of MGM-UA Worldwide Television, Gekko Film Corp, Glassner/Wright Double Secret Productions and Stargate SG-1 Prod. Ltd. Partnership. This fanfic is not intended as an infringement upon those rights and solely meant for entertainment. All other characters, the story idea and the story itself are the sole property of the author.
Author's Note: This is in answer to the Gateship Monthly Campfire Challenge for August. Rowan supplied the first two paragraphs (and fine paragraphs they are:), I did the rest! I'm sure this bunny has already been done to death, but I thought I'd give it a go. :) Many thanks to Montage.
Of Toilets and Drinking Songs
Sam Carter strongly preferred to throw-up in her own bathroom. In an otherwise empty house. Where she could crawl her way back to bed, or even stop for a nap on the soft carpet. Where no one was listening or watching, and she could concentrate merely on removing her consciousness from her body and surviving the requisite period of agony.
Far, far to the bottom of her list of places she might be willing to suffer this indignity, lay the option of "sardine-can-sized non-soundproof bathroom of Cargo Ship transporting four members of SG-1, an SGC geologist, and a Tok'ra". Yet...here she was, kneeling on the rock hard floor, her head glued to what passed as the Goa'uld equivalent of a toilet. Sam desperately longed for the cool porcelain of Taur'i bathrooms.
Especially when, for the twelfth time in the last five minutes, Sam managed to slam her head into the wall when the floor beneath her seemed to suddenly dip away. That really didn't help with the nausea. The ship swooped erratically again and Sam forced herself off the floor, barely avoiding knocking her tender head into the ceiling. She briefly rinsed her mouth and glanced at her green-tinged face, noting that she had certainly looked better.
Sam peered cautiously out the door of the latrine, wondering how many people were camped right by the door and therefore enjoyed front-row seats to her humiliation. The first person she laid eyes on was Daniel, but he didn't seem to be in any position to mock her for her weak stomach. He was curled up in the corner, his back pressed to the wall and his knees drawn to his chest.
And he was crying. Uncontrollably.
In between sobs, Sam could occasionally make out a word or two, but she was pretty sure most of them were in a different language. Something about endangered seals and polar ice caps?
Sam pushed out of the door, slowly approaching Daniel and grabbing at a nearby wall when the ship lurched again. "Daniel?" she said softly, but he didn't seem to hear her and just went on babbling and crying. In the distance, Sam dimly registered the sound of someone singing.
His deep voice was merrily belting out what seemed to be a very old, very bawdy sailor song.
"If all the young
lasses were locks on a gate,
Then I'd be the key to insert and rotate.
If all the young
lasses were boats on the ocean,
Then I'd be the waves and I'd show 'em the motion.
If all the young
lasses were fish in the pool,
Then I'd be the shark with my waterproof tool."
Sam nearly choked. Maybe getting to worship at the throne of the not-so-porcelain god wasn't so bad after all. She could be sobbing or singing. She wasn't really sure which was worse. But apparently the 'harmless dust' that Dr. Trent had accidentally exposed them to was not quite so harmless.
The guest geologist had accompanied SG-1 on this mission to the moon of PC5-901 to check out some anomalous readings they had received from the planet's surface. Jacob had been kind enough to lend them a cargo ship and fly them to the Stargate-less moon. About three hours into the mission, Dr. Trent had discovered some strange, iridescent rocks. While prying one rock loose, he managed to bring a whole avalanche of rocks nearly down on top of them and released a cloud of dust that enveloped the whole party. They had all coughed and yelled and Dr. Trent had apologized profusely, but Jack had just rolled his eyes and ordered them all back to the ship. Sam didn't remember much after that, other than her gastrointestinal pyrotechnics.
She flinched again at the memory and looked around the rest of the cargo hold. Not two feet away was Jack, leaning calmly against the wall behind her with an amused smirk on his face. "Feeling better now, Carter?"
Sam felt her cheeks burn and silently swore at the infuriating man. Of all the people to hear her getting sick… Out loud she managed to choke out a somewhat respectful, "Yes, sir."
Jack just smiled wider, undoubtedly unerringly guessing at her true thoughts.
Sam suppressed an insubordinate remark and looked him over carefully. He didn't seem to be acting any differently, though he did seem rather cheerfully unaware of the chaos around him.
Teal'c chose that moment start singing 'Whiskey in the Jar.' Sam looked at Jack. "I don't suppose you know where Teal'c managed to learn all these songs, do you?"
Jack shrugged nonchalantly. "Not a clue," he answered rather unconvincingly with a grin.
Sam bit back a profanity. Did she mention that this man was infuriating?
The ship chose that moment to pitch erratically again and Sam almost fell on Jack. He reached out a hand to steady her. Sam stared at the contact of his hand with her arm for a moment, sure that the tingles that invaded her skin must somehow be a side effect of her nausea. She stepped quickly away as soon as she regained her footing.
"Who the hell is driving this thing?" Sam ground out, her head now pounding worse than ever.
"Mario and Luigi?" Jack guessed gamely.
Sam rolled her eyes and pushed off the bulkhead. "Don't you think we should check this out, sir? Before we fly into a planet or something?"
Jack nodded and gestured for her to precede him. "After you, Major."
Sam stared hard at him for a long moment. He seemed fine, but she couldn't quite shake the feeling that he was mocking her. Daniel's sobbing reached a fevered pitch behind her and she distinctly heard the words 'ozone layer.' Sam sighed heavily before heading off for the front of the ship. This really must be what it feels like to be in an insane asylum, she thought sulkily.
Dr. Trent was lounging against the frame of the door to the cargo bay. He was sending Sam what were probably meant to be smoldering looks as he swayed ungainly to the sound of Teal'c's deep baritone. She was more than a little disappointed that her pasty, green-tinged skin hadn't somehow diminished the geologist's ardor. He had blushed and stammered around her earlier on the mission, but it seemed that the 'harmless' dust had made him a bit bolder.
"Would you like to dance with me, Samantha?" the geologist asked in a voice that was more slurred than seductive.
"No, thank you, Dr. Trent," she said firmly, swatting at one of his hands that was making a beeline for her ass.
Sam heard a derisive snort next to her and she turned to glare at Jack, who was still following her, looking disturbingly normal. Dr. Trent called out something rather colorful to Sam. Jack doubled over in laughter.
She made a mental note to kick both of their asses later and kept moving towards the front of the cargo ship.
She found Teal'c in the passenger seat, still merrily singing along, his arms waving as if conducting an imaginary orchestra. In the driver's seat was Jacob, who was gripping the controls like his life depended on it, swerving in and out through luckily empty space. Occasionally he would lean over and jerk his hands while making strange sound effects like he was firing at some unseen target.
"Dad?" Sam asked tentatively. "What are you doing?"
"Sammie!" Jacob enthused without looking away from the view in front of him. "I'm playing Asteroids! I love this game!"
"That's, uh, great, Dad. Can I talk to Selmak for a second?"
"Selmak? Nah. She's sleeping. Out cold!" Jacob then broke into a disturbing burst of giggles before jerking the ship to the left. "Whew! That was a close one!"
Sam closed her eyes and counted to ten, trying to remind herself how much fun she was going to have later mocking everyone. The whole thing was like a bad cautionary tale about using drugs.
Once she was reasonably sure that she wasn't going to yell, or yak again, Sam turned to Jack. "We should probably confine them all to the cargo hold, sir, where they can do the least amount of damage."
"Good idea," Jack agreed. He congenially put an arm around Teal'c, joined in on the current song and smoothly navigated the Jaffa into the back room. "Why don't you sing Daniel a song, maybe you could cheer him up!" Jack suggested to Teal'c.
Sam rolled her eyes and moved to her father's side. "Hey, Dad, want to give me a try?"
Jacob slapped her hand away. "Wait your own turn!"
"I saw a Frogger machine in the back. I know that's your favorite," Sam improvised.
Jacob looked up excitedly from the controls. "Really? Is there a Ms. Pac-Man, too?"
"Yeah, Dad, there is," Sam said tiredly.
"Sweet!" he cried before bolting for the back room.
Jack returned a few moments later, sparing one amused glance for Jacob as he careened past him.
"We'd better close and lock that door, sir," Sam suggested.
"Sure thing," Jack said, closing the doors not a moment too soon. Jacob had just discovered that there were, in fact, no games in the cargo hold.
A few seconds later, Jacob was pounding at the door and Teal'c had started in on 'Drunken Sailor.' In between verses, Sam could occasionally hear a sob from Daniel or a suggestive remark from Dr. Trent. What a mission this was turning out to be. She couldn't wait to write her report.
Sam sat down at the controls and managed to locate where they were and fix everything that her father had done to the systems. They were just about three light-years from the planet.
"Maybe we should just lock it down and wait this out here," Jack suggested.
Sam nodded. "Yeah, I don't relish the idea of getting them all through the gate like this."
"Although the look on Hammond's face might be worth it," Jack replied.
Sam smiled in response, but she wasn't quite up for laughing. Her head and stomach were feeling better, but to be honest, she couldn't help but feel mildly disappointed that she hadn't been affected by the 'magical dust.' Not that she really wanted to be making a complete fool of herself like most of her traveling companions, but what would one pink elephant really hurt? Everyone else was high as a kite and all she got out of it was a visit to the rather inelegant Goa'uld bathroom. That was typical Sam Carter luck, always the one left puking and taking care of everyone else.
She glanced at Jack in the next seat. Well, he wasn't affected either, which wasn't too surprising. He'd had far too much black ops training to let his mind be influenced by an alien drug.
At least that's what she'd thought.
Because now that she was locked up with him in the rather small confines of a cargo ship in the middle of space, she finally registered the way he was smiling way too openly at her. And was it just her imagination, or was he…checking her out? Oh god.
"Sir?" she asked uncertainly. "Maybe you should check on everyone in the back?" Then she could lock him in with the rest and forget about the way her stomach was fluttering. It was probably just more nausea, anyway. Really.
Jack pushed to his feet, but he didn't move towards the door. "Nah," he said, "I'd rather hang out here with you, Carter."
"Sir?" Sam squeaked as he reached out and pulled her to her feet.
He flashed his wide, disarming smile at her, and suddenly Sam found it a little harder to think. His hands had somehow snaked their way down her arms and were now resting at her waist. She swore she could feel the heat of his hands burning through the cloth of her BDUs. Oh-so-gently he pulled her closer to him so that they were separated by mere centimeters.
"Sir," Sam breathlessly managed. "I don't think you're thinking straight. You don't really want…"
But Jack cut her off by pressing one of his fingers to her lips. "Oh, I definitely want, Carter. The question is what you want. I certainly wouldn't want your judgment clouded by some wacky alien dust."
Sam sucked in her breath and forced herself to look closely at Jack. His eyes were clear and his pupils weren't dilated, but he had to be under the influence of this thing, right? Otherwise he would never… He couldn't be totally normal and doing this, right?
Jack chose that moment to run his thumb across her lower lip and part of Sam melted.
It was wrong and they couldn't.
But for some reason Sam's body wasn't listening, because she was leaning closer and closer into Jack, effectively closing the distance between them.
The rules were pretty clear about this sort of thing. Big no-no. Unless, of course, there were extenuating circumstances… Sam chanced a look at Jack and he smiled back, watching her connect the dots.
Leaning in to that one part of his neck that had always fascinated her, Sam quietly whispered, "It would be a shame if this dust thing led us to do something we normally wouldn't."
Jack's fingers clenched compulsively into her waist and she heard him give a throaty chuckle. "Yeah…that would be…terrible."
And so, with the accompaniment of Teal'c's singing, her father's curses and Daniel's sobs, Sam Carter proceeded to make out with her commanding officer like a teenager ditching curfew.
When she was actually capable of thinking, which wasn't often, (Jack, it turned out, has a rather gifted tongue) she couldn't help but think that this really was the behavior of two people under the influence. So who could really say either way in the end?
One of her last coherent thoughts, however, was that alien influence was the greatest thing ever. Maybe they could make a habit of it?
And then she stopped thinking all together.
"We're devils and
black sheep, really bad eggs
Drink up me hearties, yo ho!
Yo ho, yo ho, a pirate's life for me!"