Jack's Remedy (Stargate SG-1 fic)
Title: Jack's Remedy
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: I own not a thing.
Summary: Daniel has a minor injury. Jack inspects.
Word Count: 266
A/N: Dedicated/written for themollyedge who wanted hurt/comfort and now has gotten...this. :)
“It’s no-ngh!” Daniel gasps in shock and some small amount of pain as he shifts on the medical bed, “Not that--bad.” Again he winces, and his eyes only dart up to meet Jack’s once. He can’t stand to see the smirk there as the colonel gently turns his wrist over and over.
“You’re right.” Smug as always, Jack is taking far too much time to examine the injury, basking in the few moments he has to gloat, “And I was also right.”
He actually steps back a bit, pats Daniel on the shoulder. “Next time, we’re not going to try and work out our feelings with the large staff-toting aliens, right?” His hand is squeezing Daniel’s shoulder, an awkward and rather abrupt motion that he stops just as soon as he’s started. “Right then.”
Once more patting Daniel on the back, Jack heads to the door.
The silence that follows is a little uncomfortable, especially as Daniel-studying Jack curiously-forgets the injury, and puts his hand down on the bed beside him.
“Aah!” his attempts the stifle the sound are futile. Jack pauses, hand on the doorway.
When he turns back to face the doctor, his eyes mock almost as much as his voice, finally fed up with going easy on Daniel, “Oh for Christssake, get a damn band-aid!”
“Like a little sticky piece of--”
“Yes, Daniel, it will help. Always has, always will. Just ask any mommy dearest.” And Jack leaves with that astoundingly wise philosophy in his wake.
Later, a only mostly sulking Daniel has to admit to himself rather silently that maybe the band-aid does help.
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: I own not a thing.
Summary: Daniel has a minor injury. Jack inspects.
Word Count: 266
A/N: Dedicated/written for themollyedge who wanted hurt/comfort and now has gotten...this. :)
“It’s no-ngh!” Daniel gasps in shock and some small amount of pain as he shifts on the medical bed, “Not that--bad.” Again he winces, and his eyes only dart up to meet Jack’s once. He can’t stand to see the smirk there as the colonel gently turns his wrist over and over.
“You’re right.” Smug as always, Jack is taking far too much time to examine the injury, basking in the few moments he has to gloat, “And I was also right.”
He actually steps back a bit, pats Daniel on the shoulder. “Next time, we’re not going to try and work out our feelings with the large staff-toting aliens, right?” His hand is squeezing Daniel’s shoulder, an awkward and rather abrupt motion that he stops just as soon as he’s started. “Right then.”
Once more patting Daniel on the back, Jack heads to the door.
The silence that follows is a little uncomfortable, especially as Daniel-studying Jack curiously-forgets the injury, and puts his hand down on the bed beside him.
“Aah!” his attempts the stifle the sound are futile. Jack pauses, hand on the doorway.
When he turns back to face the doctor, his eyes mock almost as much as his voice, finally fed up with going easy on Daniel, “Oh for Christssake, get a damn band-aid!”
“Like a little sticky piece of--”
“Yes, Daniel, it will help. Always has, always will. Just ask any mommy dearest.” And Jack leaves with that astoundingly wise philosophy in his wake.
Later, a only mostly sulking Daniel has to admit to himself rather silently that maybe the band-aid does help.