Ficlet: Reasons To Be Cheerful
Found this in my brain this morning. *shrug* Don't know what it was doing there. Hanging out and causing trouble, no doubt, smoking and drinking hard liquor in darkened corners... Seemed best to let it loose.
Title: Reasons To Be Cheerful
Author: Pepper
Rating: PG
Season: Beginning of Season 7.
Featured Character(s): Jack, team
Pairing(s): None
Summary: Jack was weary, and giving some serious thought to going fishing. Like, for the rest of his life. But...
A/N: Okay, I got no responses to the timestamp meme thing, but I'm just going to go ahead and believe y'all love me really and you just didn't spot it (*sniffle*). And so, for my own satisfaction, here is 'Pirating 101' (which, for your edification and elucidation, can be found here), one year later. Title borrowed from Ian Dury and the Blockheads, but that has nothing to do with anything. (And I'm writing a totally different story for the space pirate fic challenge - because I am that odd.)
---
It hadn't been the best year ever.
Daniel hadn't been around (in a physical form, anyhow) for most of it. They'd had an annoying replacement in Jonas... who Jack was now missing to a surprising extent. Teal'c had nearly died. Sam had nearly died. Jack had died - several times, in fact... and he really wasn't going to dwell on that. Skara was gone - as were all the people of Abydos. On the plus side, they'd saved Kelowna, and blown up Anubis's big, honkin' space gun.
He was weary, quite honestly, and giving some serious thought to going fishing. Like, for the rest of his life. It wasn't as though he hadn't earned it. The retirement letter was written - had been written for, oh, about three years now. But he hadn't signed it or handed it to Hammond, yet. He felt like he was waiting for something - but he wasn't sure what.
Jack sighed, shifting slightly in his sleeping bag. He was getting too old for this - too old to be spending half his nights camped outdoors on cold, hard ground, with rocks and tree roots poking him in the kidneys. Too old to be booking it from aliens brandishing everything from laser guns to sharp rocks, once a week or so. Too old to be holding back from the things he wanted, waiting for some unspecified future moment when it would all miraculously be okay, suddenly. Too old for... all this crap.
So why was he hesitating? Why hadn't he done the deed already and retired? No good reason, he concluded, lying there with his eyes closed, trying not to be awake yet. No damn good reason.
"Is he still asleep?" That whisper was Daniel - still the least stealthy of them, although he could sure kick ass for an archaeologist, nowadays. Obviously Daniel received some response from either Sam or Teal'c, because he asked no more questions.
It felt like they were up to something, and Jack's adrenaline kicked in, waking him up fully. He kept his eyes closed, his limbs lax, and his breathing slow and steady - but he suspected that Sam and Teal'c, at least, weren't fooled. Now the question was, should he take the initiative and surprise them - get up quickly and get away from whatever practical joke they had planned (not the easiest thing to do from a sleeping bag, but he'd had practice), or should he wait and see, and trust that his beloved team weren't about to dump a pan of cold water on his head? He couldn't remember offending any or all of them recently. Nothing that warranted serious retribution, anyhow. Well, there had been the incident with the shaken-up beer, but that was just his adorably childlike sense of humour... right?
Oh god, they were so about to drench him.
He should move. Move your ass, airman, he ordered. But a bizarre case of nerves kept him frozen in place. It felt like when he was a kid, playing Hide-and-Seek. God help him, but he was on the edge of... giggling? No way in hell. He did not - he categorically did not giggle. Like a girl. Goddammit.
He sensed movement next to him, and in the next instant he was halfway across the camp like a scalded cat, brandishing the nearest weapon to hand. His heart pounding, Jack stared at his team, all four of them arrested in a surprised tableau. Jack was the first to speak.
"What the f-?"
"Sir? Are you okay?" Daniel nudged Sam sharply in the ribs, and she corrected herself. "I meant, arrrr, be thou shipshape, Cap'n?"
Jack goggled at his Major. Sam, Teal'c, and Daniel exchanged sheepish glances.
"I, ah, think he's forgotten the day," said Daniel. "You can drop the MRE, Jack - it may well be lethal, but not as a blunt instrument. Arrr," he added, as an afterthought.
Jack lowered his weapon of choice - mushroom fettuccini. "What the...?" he tried again, staring at his team. Hats. They were wearing an assortment of pirate h... "Oh!" He pulled back the Velcro on his watch and checked the date. Oh! Aha!
"By Poseidon, I think he's got it!" Daniel grinned brightly at him.
Teal'c, who'd been about to drop a similar hat - although with slightly more elaborate frogging - on Jack, tossed the article to him. Jack caught it and straightened from his defensive crouch, examining it with admiration. It was definitely a pirate captain's hat. It had a skull and crossbones, and a lot of gold lace. He put it on his head at a jaunty angle.
"Shipmates!" he shouted, throwing his hands out.
"Aye, Cap'n!" they chorused in perfectly-synchronised reply.
"Be there any grog for a thirsty sailor?" enquired Cap'n Jack. Sam - wearing a fetching red bandana printed with little black skull-and-crossbones, and, to Jack's admiration, big gold hoop earrings - handed him a mug of coffee, accompanied by a broad grin. "Teal'c, Gelder of Goa'uld, how fared the watches of the night?"
"'Twas quieter than a Frenchman's fart," rumbled Teal'c. They all stared at him, and he looked back serenely from under his eyepatch.
"O...kay," said Jack. "Dastardly Sir Daniel, what be our plans for the day?"
"Well, Cap'n Jack, the UAV's been a-whisperin' of dwellin'-places abaft the forest."
Jack looked to Sam for clarification. She checked her compass, and pointed off to her right. "We should set sail in an easterly direction, sir - uh, Cap'n," she said. "Full ten clicks, as the cannonball flies."
"Arr, it be a good thing that I be not wearin' me fancy pirate boots, then," said Jack, flexing his knees to get some life back into them after the night's chill. Sam quirked her eyebrows at him, and he gave her an inscrutable look in return. "Break out the victuals, me hearties, and be ready to weigh anchor for seas unknown at a quarter-past the hour, to find that spot marked 'x'."
"Aye-aye, Cap'n," came the reply.
His merry band of cutthroats set to with a will, and Jack grinned to himself, and began to hum the instructions for dealing with an inebriated son of the surf. Retirement? Ha! When there were fights to be fought, treasures to be won, and horizons to explore?
Not a chance in hell.
----------
REALLY THE END THIS TIME.
Title: Reasons To Be Cheerful
Author: Pepper
Rating: PG
Season: Beginning of Season 7.
Featured Character(s): Jack, team
Pairing(s): None
Summary: Jack was weary, and giving some serious thought to going fishing. Like, for the rest of his life. But...
A/N: Okay, I got no responses to the timestamp meme thing, but I'm just going to go ahead and believe y'all love me really and you just didn't spot it (*sniffle*). And so, for my own satisfaction, here is 'Pirating 101' (which, for your edification and elucidation, can be found here), one year later. Title borrowed from Ian Dury and the Blockheads, but that has nothing to do with anything. (And I'm writing a totally different story for the space pirate fic challenge - because I am that odd.)
---
It hadn't been the best year ever.
Daniel hadn't been around (in a physical form, anyhow) for most of it. They'd had an annoying replacement in Jonas... who Jack was now missing to a surprising extent. Teal'c had nearly died. Sam had nearly died. Jack had died - several times, in fact... and he really wasn't going to dwell on that. Skara was gone - as were all the people of Abydos. On the plus side, they'd saved Kelowna, and blown up Anubis's big, honkin' space gun.
He was weary, quite honestly, and giving some serious thought to going fishing. Like, for the rest of his life. It wasn't as though he hadn't earned it. The retirement letter was written - had been written for, oh, about three years now. But he hadn't signed it or handed it to Hammond, yet. He felt like he was waiting for something - but he wasn't sure what.
Jack sighed, shifting slightly in his sleeping bag. He was getting too old for this - too old to be spending half his nights camped outdoors on cold, hard ground, with rocks and tree roots poking him in the kidneys. Too old to be booking it from aliens brandishing everything from laser guns to sharp rocks, once a week or so. Too old to be holding back from the things he wanted, waiting for some unspecified future moment when it would all miraculously be okay, suddenly. Too old for... all this crap.
So why was he hesitating? Why hadn't he done the deed already and retired? No good reason, he concluded, lying there with his eyes closed, trying not to be awake yet. No damn good reason.
"Is he still asleep?" That whisper was Daniel - still the least stealthy of them, although he could sure kick ass for an archaeologist, nowadays. Obviously Daniel received some response from either Sam or Teal'c, because he asked no more questions.
It felt like they were up to something, and Jack's adrenaline kicked in, waking him up fully. He kept his eyes closed, his limbs lax, and his breathing slow and steady - but he suspected that Sam and Teal'c, at least, weren't fooled. Now the question was, should he take the initiative and surprise them - get up quickly and get away from whatever practical joke they had planned (not the easiest thing to do from a sleeping bag, but he'd had practice), or should he wait and see, and trust that his beloved team weren't about to dump a pan of cold water on his head? He couldn't remember offending any or all of them recently. Nothing that warranted serious retribution, anyhow. Well, there had been the incident with the shaken-up beer, but that was just his adorably childlike sense of humour... right?
Oh god, they were so about to drench him.
He should move. Move your ass, airman, he ordered. But a bizarre case of nerves kept him frozen in place. It felt like when he was a kid, playing Hide-and-Seek. God help him, but he was on the edge of... giggling? No way in hell. He did not - he categorically did not giggle. Like a girl. Goddammit.
He sensed movement next to him, and in the next instant he was halfway across the camp like a scalded cat, brandishing the nearest weapon to hand. His heart pounding, Jack stared at his team, all four of them arrested in a surprised tableau. Jack was the first to speak.
"What the f-?"
"Sir? Are you okay?" Daniel nudged Sam sharply in the ribs, and she corrected herself. "I meant, arrrr, be thou shipshape, Cap'n?"
Jack goggled at his Major. Sam, Teal'c, and Daniel exchanged sheepish glances.
"I, ah, think he's forgotten the day," said Daniel. "You can drop the MRE, Jack - it may well be lethal, but not as a blunt instrument. Arrr," he added, as an afterthought.
Jack lowered his weapon of choice - mushroom fettuccini. "What the...?" he tried again, staring at his team. Hats. They were wearing an assortment of pirate h... "Oh!" He pulled back the Velcro on his watch and checked the date. Oh! Aha!
"By Poseidon, I think he's got it!" Daniel grinned brightly at him.
Teal'c, who'd been about to drop a similar hat - although with slightly more elaborate frogging - on Jack, tossed the article to him. Jack caught it and straightened from his defensive crouch, examining it with admiration. It was definitely a pirate captain's hat. It had a skull and crossbones, and a lot of gold lace. He put it on his head at a jaunty angle.
"Shipmates!" he shouted, throwing his hands out.
"Aye, Cap'n!" they chorused in perfectly-synchronised reply.
"Be there any grog for a thirsty sailor?" enquired Cap'n Jack. Sam - wearing a fetching red bandana printed with little black skull-and-crossbones, and, to Jack's admiration, big gold hoop earrings - handed him a mug of coffee, accompanied by a broad grin. "Teal'c, Gelder of Goa'uld, how fared the watches of the night?"
"'Twas quieter than a Frenchman's fart," rumbled Teal'c. They all stared at him, and he looked back serenely from under his eyepatch.
"O...kay," said Jack. "Dastardly Sir Daniel, what be our plans for the day?"
"Well, Cap'n Jack, the UAV's been a-whisperin' of dwellin'-places abaft the forest."
Jack looked to Sam for clarification. She checked her compass, and pointed off to her right. "We should set sail in an easterly direction, sir - uh, Cap'n," she said. "Full ten clicks, as the cannonball flies."
"Arr, it be a good thing that I be not wearin' me fancy pirate boots, then," said Jack, flexing his knees to get some life back into them after the night's chill. Sam quirked her eyebrows at him, and he gave her an inscrutable look in return. "Break out the victuals, me hearties, and be ready to weigh anchor for seas unknown at a quarter-past the hour, to find that spot marked 'x'."
"Aye-aye, Cap'n," came the reply.
His merry band of cutthroats set to with a will, and Jack grinned to himself, and began to hum the instructions for dealing with an inebriated son of the surf. Retirement? Ha! When there were fights to be fought, treasures to be won, and horizons to explore?
Not a chance in hell.
----------
REALLY THE END THIS TIME.