Title: Negotiations


Rating: PG13

Summary: Written in 2005. Sam and Jack are just too cheerful for Daniel's taste, given the alien state of affairs.

Content warning: none. A few swear words. No violence, no sexual situations.

Classifications: S/J romance. Daniel's pov.

Spoilers: Jack is a General in this and still at the SGC, so a future fic in season 8 or a now AU.

Archive: SJD yes. Others please ask.

Don't own the characters, etc. etc. and this was written for entertainment, not profit

Status: Complete. 3 chapters.

Feedback: Yes, that would be great, if you have the time. Thanks.

Part 1

Daniel Jackson grimaced at his companion as they walked down Corridor 21A towards the SGC main conference room. He wished, yet again, that "the General" would make an appearance.

Okay, to be fair, the guy walking next to him actually was "making an appearance." Unfortunately, appearance wasn't the problem. He was appropriately dressed in full military blues, not a hair… well …maybe a few… well...maybe a lot of… hairs out of place, but that really wasn't the point. They were now really short hairs, since Jack's series of latest haircuts.

Daniel shook his head, annoyed, and tried to focus. It was clear that Jack was on the verge of driving him totally insane.

Blues or no blues, the fact was that "the General" showed no signs of surfacing from the depths of the indecipherable individual arrayed in said blues strolling next to him down the corridor like he owned the place. Which he did, of course, sort of. But still. Currently what was in place of "the General", even though he was incredibly well dressed – except for the hair, of course --was an ironic, irreverent, annoying and extremely bouncy "Jack O'Neill" who, unlike his alter ego, showed no signs of submerging any time soon.

These days, Daniel swore Jack had a split personality. Maybe a Goa'uld really did finally get its… nah.

He sighed. They just didn't have time for this. And, just what the hell was Jack rambling on about now, anyway?

"…and anyway, it doesn't matter 'cause it's not gonna happen. Daniel, I tell you the Sox are going to win the Series again. You're imagining things if you think it's going down any differently next year."

Oh, yeah. Baseball.

"I'm not imagining anything, Jack, except that we never had this conversation. For the record, whatever that is, I don't care about baseball. I've never cared about baseball. I don't know how the hell we even started talking about baseball, not that I was."


Daniel tried again. "We need to focus; you need to focus on this meeting. The Hantari are being difficult about the terms of item 3 on the agenda and this new guy, whose name is--" He looked down at his notes, pausing.

"Ambassador Harror."

"Yeah. You remember his name?" Daniel couldn't quite keep the incredulity out of his voice as he verified the comment. "He just gated in last night."

Maybe "the General" was showing signs of surfacing after all. Uhuh, yeah, well, one could hope.

O'Neill shrugged.

Daniel cleared his throat, and decided to let the unfathomable mystery of how "Jack" had remembered the Ambassador's name descend into undefined depths, so they could get on to the more critical issues facing them in the upcoming meeting.

Then he remembered. "Sam was touring Harror around this morning, wasn't she?"

Jack, and it was definitely "Jack", just shrugged again.

Mystery solved.

Daniel regrouped. "OK, anyway, Harror's rumored to be the hard asses of hard asses, even though they say he has a sense of humor, whatever that is for the Hantari; his adherence to protocol is legendary; and he prides himself on having … uh… discriminating taste. "

Daniel could have sworn from the silence that for a moment he'd gotten "the General's" attention. But then "Jack" rallied.

"Yeah, sure… you betcha. Don't try to distract me, Daniel. It's not gonna work. You're just saying you don't care about baseball because your team lost. But I've always known you're a closet Yankee fan. That cat's out of the bag and it's not going back in. And this year you lost.

Jack's tone was positively gleeful… "and you're going to lose againnext year."

"Jack, I honestly don't follow …"

"Yep, you're so gonna lose."

"I really don't.."

"Lose, I tell you. "

Daniel tried again. "We have to – you have to -- have a plan. It's only the two of us and the Ambassador and I need to know how you're --"

"They're Toast. Completely and So Totally Toast. Totally Toasted Tarantulas."

"The way you start this negotiation is going to be critical --."

Daniel stopped short. "What?"


"Did you actually say 'totally toasted tarantulas'?"

Jack shrugged once more, clearly gloating, and then did a double take. "You're right."

"I am?" Daniel responded in shock. It appeared that he'd actually gotten through "Jack" to "the General". It had to be a first.

He was wrong.

"Totally toasted tostadas has a better ring. Even the Yankees don't deserve to be compared to snakes and spiders. At least 'tostadas' is just a food group."

Daniel gave in, admitting defeat. "Okay. If I agree to being a closet Yankee fan and say that I think they'll win next year, can we talk about how you're going to start the negotiations that begin in the next five minutes?"

"And this you're willing to bet on?"

"Yeah. Anything. Whatever."

"You're agreeing that if the Sox win you will tape the Simpsons for me for two months and that if the Yankees win -- not that there's a chance in hell-- you will orchestrate the ceremony thingy for the Voltans next year?"

"Yeah. I – hey – that's not a bet. You win either way."

"OK, if you want to be that way, Daniel, we can talk point spread. I'm open. The odds are going to be –"

"Jack, no. No odds. I agree to the bet as it stands."

"If you're sure. I wouldn't want you to feel you didn't have some input into this."

"God, yes. I'm sure. Anything if we can end this … baseball …conversation."

"You're sure you're sure?"

"I'm sure I'm sure. I'm more than sure I'm sure. I am completely sure I'm sure."

"Well, if you're really really sure you're sure--."

" Damn it, Jack. I am absolutely positively sure I'm sure. As in, I agree to anything. Just stop."

"OK. Done."

Daniel glanced aside at Jack and then did a double take as they walked into the briefing room when he realized just what he'd agreed to and how he'd been maneuvered.

He finally realized to whom he'd been talking all along.

"Nice negotiating tactics, General. "

"Thanks." General O'Neill smiled one of his rare real smiles. "Yours could use some work. You're way too easy a mark."

Daniel grimaced. "And you're just way too damned cheerful lately. It's getting to be… "



"I aim to please."