Title: It
Author: A.j. (Aj2245@y...)
Rating: PG (But that's erring on the side of caution.)
Archive: SJD and anyone else who really wants it is more than welcome.
Summary: They really have to stop doing this.
Disclaimer: So incredibly Not. Mine. No soy original.
Spoilers: Err... uber-fluffy futurefic. I'm not lying. It's really
REALLY fluffy. I guess spoilers for season six, but not really
because no one's mentioned by name.
Status: Finito.

Notes: All. Jojo's. Fault. Evil French spy!


by A.j.


They really had to stop doing this.

It was getting ridiculous.

Not that anyone seemed to mind, really. It had been something of a
shock to find out just how many people cared about his love life. Or
lack there of, given the circumstances.

Not anymore though. Hee! Oh, lord, this was seriously insane.

The worst part was, he had no idea when It had started happening.

Okay, sure, it had probably started around the time General Hammond's
memo on 'Internal Reorganization' had finally decided to find its way
to his inbox. Well, possibly not then. He'd been too pissed for it to
start then. He didn't WANT to lose his second in command. He *liked*
his second in command.

Maybe it'd started after General Hammond had stoically indicated that
yes he knew that Jack liked his second in command. He knew it quite
well, from the yards and yards of commendations, and observations,
and a certain tape having to do with a certain machine that made
certain Colonels admit things they didn't even know they knew. Right.

Well, not then either, come to think of it. There'd been the
stammering and the rationalization then. And the bone-deep
embarrasment when General Hammond had clapped him on the back and
muttered, "You can kiss her on the cheek this time, Jack."

It could have started some time in the following two months. During a
random moment where they weren't being pelted with mud, or sleet, or
water of some varying sort. Not likely though, because SG-1 had been
on the recieving end of a bad karma crap storm, the likes of which he
could only compare to things like He Who Will Not Be Mentioned and
Iraq. Anubis officially sucked. No, it hadn't been then either.

Jack O'Neill was nothing if not easily distracted.

Still, it had to have been in the days leading up to the ceremony. It
HAD to have been. Maybe when she'd wandered into his office bearing
coffee. Or one of the multiple times she'd looked at him just like
*that* after going on an extended diatribe about some rarely known
fact in particle mechanics that was giving her trouble. As if she
ever really had trouble. She so knew he was starting to figure out
what she was talking about. He knew the woman was evil, and he was
fairly sure she made it worse than it seemed just to wind him up.

She'd been doing that for years anyway. It might not have been then.

Well, maybe *not* then. It hadn't really sunk in yet.

How do you come to terms with something like that? Not working with
someone after spending nearly seven years in their metaphorical
pocket? Well, Jack was Jack, and in JackWorld, this called for a
heavy dose of not thinking about it.

So he hadn't. So it hadn't been then. Huh.

Wait, it hadn't been during the ceremony, had it? Had it taken that
long for him to start doing It? Surely not...

But... maybe.

Because what can you do when you pin oak leaves on your second in
command's lapels beside grin inanely? Or when you're kissing her
cheek? Or telling her that she's going to be heading up her own team?
Bossing people around in a way you're damn proud to say is bizarrely
similar to your own?

Or when you both realize, rather comically according to your friends,
that she actually *can* say yes to that fishing invite you've been
harping on for years?

Yeah, they really had to stop doing this. Because smiling? All the
time? Really not something that goes with the Jack O'Neill image.