Title: Searching for a Cure
Category: Humour POV
Pairing: Daniel/Janet, SJ UST
Summary: Janet comes down with a bad case of Danielitis.
Disclaimer: not mine.
Thanks to: Everyone on the SG Workshop list for their comments, feedback and plothole detecting. You guys are fantastic :) Thanks also to Vicky the muse. A very helpful young person :P
Author notes: My apologies for the silliness of this fic and the amount of out of characterness that the characters are out of...(did that make sense? I think not). Oh well, hope you enjoy! Send feedback :)
Unceremoniously ripped from peaceful sleep by incessant bleeping of bedside alarm clock. Take several wild flails of arm before managing to beat it into submission with hand.
Promptly fall asleep again.
Unfortunately re-awoken by combined effort from both dog and alarm clock to make owner get out of bed this horribly cold and icy winter morning. Cursing Air Force and Work in General, push dog off chest and fling covers aside. Wince as skin is assaulted by frigid air probably caused by breakdown of heating system - again.
Take fuzzy glance at date indicated on wristwatch. Groan inwardly. If mental calendar is correct, exactly fifteen months since last getting laid.
Hold on to side of mattress with both hands. Pull head over edge of bed . Search for slippers while simultaneously checking for any men that may be hiding underneath there.
You never know your luck.
Absently entertain thoughts of actually having found gorgeous man hiding underneath bed. Versions of gorgeous men unfortunately limited to Daniel, Jack and Teal'c due to non-social nature of work.
(Not implying that finding Daniel under bed particularly bad in any way - however Sam may want my head if *anyone* went anywhere near Jack. Teal'c probably couldn't fit under bed anyway).
Freezing cold and highly disappointed in lack of gorgeous men around house in general, commence in taking a nice hot shower to start off day.
Remember with slight peevishness that teenage daughter also requires morning shower and turn down hot water setting so as not to use it all.
End nice warm shower with high degree of reluctance. Catch sight of self in mirror while stepping out of shower stall. ARGH! Bad hair and a half day! Not Happy Jan. Wrap towel around body and unruly hair. Proceed to drag hairbrush through knotted mop.
*drag drag drag drag...snap!* Ow! GodDAMNIT!
Glare at hair in mirror. Frown at broken brush. Think jealous thoughts of men with short hair and no need for daily battle with brush.
...Except maybe Daniel. Poor man has entirely dysfunctional hair. - Which would probably still manage to look unbearably sexy after run-ins with Vicious Lawnmowers. Damn that man!
Must consult AMA manual - search for disorder possibly called 'Dysfunctional Hairitis' or something similar.
Suspect that hair may have something against me.
Finally manage to bring hair under some semblance of 'control'. However, definition of term 'under control' may need some tweaking by time hair is done with it. Cast one last glare at defiant strand which insists on falling out of bun and return to bedroom to put on Air Force uniform.
Stand at end of staircase and holler at Cassandra for running late again.
Me: "Cassandra! Hurry up in there, I haven't got all morning!"
Very Slow And Snarky Teenage Daughter: "Just a sec mom. Sheesh!"
Look at watch pointedly and scowl up staircase.
Me: "You said that ten minutes ago, young lady. Hurry up."
Catch foul end of daughter's glare as she thunders down staircase and goes to door.
Very Slow And Snarky Teenage Daughter: "Alright, fine. I'm ready. Let's go."
Arrive at Cheyenne Mountain with fifteen minutes to spare. Spend five of those fifteen spare minutes trying to find bloody parking space for damned car. Consider pros and cons of running over Sam's motorbike and park car in her space.
Remember that Sam is best friend, and though she may be a tolerant and open-minded person, she may not look kindly upon having her beloved Harley pulverised by shiny black 4x4.
That and I love my car.
God hates me. He Really, Truly does.
Men! What a bunch of assholes.
...Speaking of assholes, Daniel has a rather nice ass. Very firm, very toned, very...Oooboy!
Ahem, let's get back on track, shall we?
Waste spare fifteen minutes at front gate because computer system refuses to acknowledge access card. Eventually convince guards to summon Colonel O'Neill to vouch for my identity. End up clocking in five minutes late instead of early.
Upon reaching office discover that nurses have already raided candy jar (frown, mutter mutter). Definitely going to need lock installed on door one of these days. Set down handbag and jacket in corner of office before shuffling through inbox pile.
Have discovered that Inbox is involved in Dark and Evil Conspiracy aiming to drown me in paperwork for rest of my adult life. During night several members of medical staff have submitted reports ranging from bone-breakage to zipper-bite.
(SG7 pulled out early from mission after commanding officer was ambushed by a patrol of Disgruntled Jaffa while pissing against tree. In ensuing surprise and panicked rush for safety, aforementioned unfortunate officer managed to entrap penis in fly. )
Will recommend two days stand down for injured member to recover from trauma.
Hungry. Check watch to discover self buried under ream of paperwork for over two hours. Grab imaginary pickaxe and hack pathway back to surface. Breathe in deep draught of fresh air. Stomach demands food. Push backwards from desk and watch in dismay as several sheaths of paper float happily to floor. Bastards.
If paperwork came in sexes, all of it would be male.
Enter commissary to discover Major Carter and Colonel O'Neill already hard at it with sport of eating blue jello with forks while sharing lust-addled gazes and denying that they are doing anything of sort. (Thus resulting in appearance of two people with terrible twitchy-eye problems).
Make way past counter and purchase what is hopefully an apple and stride to table occupied by Carter and O'Neill. Glance fleetingly around commissary in search of Doctor Jackson. Nope, no luck here. Am strangely very disappointed. Oh well. Perhaps will arrive later with Teal'c.
Pull out vacant seat and sit down without invitation. (sit first, ask questions later).
Me: (pulling out chair and sitting down) "Hey. This seat taken?"
Sam: (snapping out of lustful staring war with CO) "...Wha? Oh, hey Janet! No, no, sit down." (Big happy Sam-Smile)
O'Neill: "Doc." (Nods, swallows forkful of jello)
Me: (taking bite of apple - ooh! It really is an apple!) "So you guys have a mission this afternoon, I hear...")
O'Neill: (taking his eyes off Carter so fast his retinas get whiplash) "That we do, Doc. sun, sand, trees and rocks. I'm itching to go already."
Sam: "The MALP readings suggest substantial amounts of naquada and trinium in the area. There may be enough deposits out there to start an offworld mine."
Me: (grinning at Sam's excitement and O'Neill's dread) "Well, it sounds like it should be fun for everyone then! Hopefully you won't injure yourselves too much this time."
O'Neill: (doubtfully) "...should be."
Jerked away from amusing conversation with Sam and O'Neill concerning Daniel's apparent inability to get through even safest of missions unscathed. Abandon table with wry grin and comment "Ooh, gotta go, they're playing my tune." Hurry off to Gateroom to cacophonous melody of klaxons blaring.
Arrive in time to witness SG-8 come flying through wormhole in a tangle of arms, legs and various greenery, followed by enraged and iridescent Little Green Man brandishing a spear and gibbering incessantly.
"CLOSE THE IRIS!" Shouts Captain Shapiro as more little green angry men begin to emerge through wormhole. Iris closes with sickening crunch followed by several thuds as various little green body parts fall to floor.
Members of SG-8 back cautiously away from now incensed Green Man, who is seemingly unfazed by muzzles of twenty-odd P-90's aimed directly at his madly bobbing iridescent green head.
Give SG-8 a once over and order shower before even thinking about setting foot into beloved infirmary. General Hammond orders airman to fetch Doctor Jackson in effort to communicate with Green Man before casting look at SG-8 that clearly says 'You Will Be Explaining All Of This Later'.
Watch in amazement as Daniel manages to establish form of communication between himself and Psychotic Little Green Man. Conversation between two consists of grunts and clicks followed by enthusiastic "Grr'Hck Knuck-tck'AAAAAH!!!" from Little Green Man who subsequently wraps himself around Daniel's left leg like a small child.
Aw, that's sweet. Is it just me or does everything take instant liking to this (currently unfortunate) man?
Have been standing around for past minute waiting for Little Green Man to release Daniel's leg. Am beginning to think that we may have No Such Luck here.
Try to coax Little Green Man away from Daniel. Understand Green Man's reluctance to let go. Daniel is irresistible.
Unwittingly fall into random dirty thoughts about Daniel. Make mental note not to think naughty thoughts. Bad Doctor, Janet! Bad!
Stand in infirmary with worried and somewhat bemused members of SG-1 and SG-8 in front of Doctor Jackson who is sitting on a gurney with strangely smug-looking alien still clinging firmly to his leg.
Colonel O'Neill expresses concern that team is due offworld in no less than five minutes. Will be going nowhere near Stargate with Iridescent Green Alien attached to member of his team.
Recall having had this same problem the time Daniel came to infirmary needing appendix removed. Only last time it was my eyes which remained firmly glued in place - am willing to argue that his pectoral muscles and biceps may have been suffering after-effects of appendicitis (as the so often do!) in event of any 'gazing' accusations.
Grin deviously to self and quickly lock lustful thoughts of gorgeous men (most likely caused by lack of 'action', so to speak in recent years) in dark corners of mind. Watch as Sam snaps on clean latex glove and before extending tentative hand towards new appendage on Daniel's leg.
Sam leaps back in shock as Little Green Man hurls out deafening war cry and gnashes pointy yellow teeth at her, not even slightly loosening grip from around host's unwilling leg.
Sam: (backing away fearfully) "Uh...what did he say Daniel?"
Daniel: (pushing glasses up nose in an oh-so endearing manner) "He said...er...'mine, mine, mine'...that is....more or less."
Me: "What do you mean, 'more or less'?"
Daniel: (swallowing nervously) "Well it was more along lines of 'my bitch now' if I'm correct in assuming 'Hack-tck' is middle Assyrian for 'female dog'"
Am fortunately able to hold back snarky retort along lines of 'you'll have to fight me for him you Little Green Bastard'. Snigger as O'Neill almost wets himself trying not to laugh.
Sam: "Can't we just knock it out with some sedative Janet? That way we could pry it off Daniel and send it on its way..."
Good luck there, sister...If I were in the same position, I wouldn't be letting go of that leg in a hurry either! What can I say...I'm a legs woman.
Me: (frowning) "I thought of that, but it won't let me get anywhere near it, you saw the way it snarled at you before."
Daniel: "Couldn't you just give the syringe to me and I'll inject it? After all, it has taken up residence on *my* leg, so it must trust me in some way."
Duh - why didn't I think of that?
Me: "Good idea Doctor Jackson, I was just considering that myself. Just sit tight and I'll go and prepare a shot for you."
Little Green Man: "Gng'k'eck-pl! Hack-tck! Grr-AaAArGH!"
After having successfully removed little Green Man from Doctor Jackson's leg, (thankfully without any major surgical procedures whatsoever) watch in victory as snoring green bundle encased in hazmat bag is thrown unceremoniously through wormhole to its own planet full of other, equally angry Little Green Men.
Bid SG-1 farewell as they embark on latest adventure, warning Daniel not to return injured lest he face my Dark and Hideous CMO Wrath.
Same goes for any other member of the team.
...(however it does appear that brain may have developed some sort of thing for Daniel. Either that or am experiencing rampant bouts of libidiosity and a small case of Danielitis. Have seen it happen to my nurses before: perhaps disease is contagious?).
Will look into this later.
*sigh* Has it really been only half an hour? Day appears to be dragging on and on.
Consider possibility of Danielitis after 'suffering' (term may be debatable) third Non-Work-Related Daniel Thought today. Conduct quick mental list of Non Work Related Daniel-Thought occurrences to diagnose severity of possible Danielitis:
1. 0603 - entertained fantasies of gorgeous Daniel!Men hiding under bed.
2. 0613 - experienced thoughts of unfailingly sexy Daniel!Hair.
3. 0906 - after accusing all men of being assholes, went off on tangent about
general niceness of Daniel's ass.
4. 1203 - was subconsciously depressed for total of 35 seconds when Daniel was
found not to be in Commissary.
5. 1220 to 1223 - after seeing Little Green Man so smitten with Daniel!Legs,
could not take mind off being wrapped around Daniel for whole ten
6. 1230 - fleetingly wished for Daniel to sustain minor injuries requiring
careful examination. (sans clothing, if possible).
Diagnosis: Definite case of Danielitis - Wonder what possible courses of treatment there are available for cases such as this. Will have to discuss problem with Sam later.
Back to being bored...can't someone be considerate and hurt themselves?
Ooh! Some action! Colonel Kinston has returned from P4C-769 after unfortunate interlude with Intergalactic Poison Ivy. Prescribe soothing cream for rash and give orders for bed-rest with arse preferably up in air. Must speak with General Hammond about including toilet paper as part of basic one-man ration kit.
Have spent past...hour and a bit mulling over how I may have come down with mild case of Danielitis while pretending to be thoroughly absorbed in truckloads of paperwork.
So far succeeded in agreeing that the man has a mighty fine body - both inside and out...possibility of having caught disease through actual bodily contact while rummaging for spleen armed with sutures and some anaesthetic?
Musings interrupted (Musus Interruptus?) by decidedly green looking airman who appears to have taken on wrong kind of commissary food. Am unhappily covered in foul-smelling chunks of industrial-grade Bouncy Custard and Carrot Pieces. Oh joy. Diagnose airman with food poisoning, grimace as chunk of custard and bile slides down front of shirt. Eewwwwwwwwwww.
Must definitely go and take shower.
Locker rooms appear to be somewhat deserted and thus assume that nobody else is in there. Strip out of rank, bile-covered uniform and head for showers clad in wonderfully fluffy towel. So absorbed in resisting urge to breathe in fumes from bile still coating hair - do not notice that I will run into similarly towel-clad Doctor Jackson until it is too late.
Me: (almost dropping towel in shock) "Aaargh!"
Daniel: (making conscious effort not to look) "Oh! Uh, sorry Doc! I was just, ah..."
(pauses, sniffs air and wrinkles nose) "Um, is it just me or does it reek in here?"
Me: (undergoing violent relapse in Non Work Related Daniel-Thought involving Showering!Daniel) "Yeah, I um. Had an altercation with a sick airman. (Showering!Daniel Non Work Related Daniel-Thought takes a turn for raunch..ier)...ahem...Don't touch the commissary food."
Daniel:(nods) "Ah, okay Doc. See you in the infirmary."
I *certainly* hope so!
Whoo! Down Janet! Down! Bad doctor!
Daniel walks off hastily. Ooh, was that a quick glance below shoulder level that I caught there? Shake head. Hmmm, nah. Must be my overactive imagination and effects of bile.
Am currently giving SG-1 their post-mission exam. O'Neill grouching over lack of action on mission in general. Sam is blazing secret, lustful gazes at her Colonel while not blazing secret lustful gazes at her Colonel. Roll eyes at both of them and tell them they can go.
Move on to examine Teal'c who doesn't particularly need examining anyway but joins in on Post-Mission because he thinks it's fun. Aliens - they're all completely whacko, no matter who they are...notice alien's breath smells mysteriously of coffee.
Clear Teal'c and move on to Doctor Jackson. Endure onslaught of Danielitis induced Inappropriate Thoughts while moving stethoscope over well-defined muscles of chest. Realise in dismay that one of the symptoms of Danielitis is selective amnesia with regards to scientific names for human anatomy.
Request patient to turn around for easier access to breathing sounds (for stethoscope). Resist urge to request patient to bend over for better view of ass. Make amends to self by making mental note to drop pen in front of him to 'test reflexes' so to speak.
Snicker at last thought and decide that Sam will definitely need to be consulted about possible treatment for Danielitis. Simply is unethical to continue living life with bizarre preoccupation for adorable man.
Ninety minutes left until home-time. Teenage Daughter phoned twice asking about ETA of my arriving home. Suspect presence of Boyfriend in vicinity of Teenage Daughter. Remember Old and Wise warning issued to me by mother concerning care of Teenage Daughter(s): "Once they bleed, they breed."
(However in my case, I have to stock up on light bulbs every month).
Implore ninety minutes to magically grow shorter.
Swear that second hand is ticking one second forward and two seconds backward. End-of day paperwork threatens to overcome.
Arrrrrgh! Drowning in possessed reams of paperwork! Noooooooooooooooooooooooooo!
There's got to be *something* wrong with that clock...
Relapse into Non Work Related Daniel-Thoughts of vast inappropriateness while typing out Airman Hodge's (commissary food victim) medical report. Non Work Related Daniel-Thoughts involve Daniel (unsurprisingly...), whipped cream (low fat) and chocolate sauce (and not a whole lot else...).
Enjoy imaginary ChocolateCovered!Daniel while staring intently at half-finished report. Close eyes in ecstasy as ChocolateCovered!Daniel enjoys Me. Willing to decide that Mild case of Danielitis has now become Severe. Must consult Sam immediately...just...not right now.
Non Work Related Daniel-Thought Daniel: (covered in rapturous chocolate sauce) 'moooooooooooooooooan'
Me: "Ohhh, Daniel"
Non Work Related Daniel-Thought Daniel: "Doc?"
Me: "Call me Janet"
Non Work Related Daniel-Thought Daniel: "Ah...Doc...?"
Me: "Shut up and kiss me damnit."
Feel tentative hand touch shoulder. Jump ten feet into air in shock.
Object of Non Work Related Daniel-Thought fantasy is standing in office with bemused smile on face. Strongly wish that large slab of rock will fall on my head and kill me now...
Opt for next best approach, close eyes and hope that when I open them he's not actually there.
No Such Luck.
Will have to accept fatally embarrassing reality and make up an excuse.
Going well. Encourage brain to expand on that thought.
Give up. Blush. Look sheepish.
Brain finally decides to come up with a sufficient "How may I help you Doctor Jackson?" Daniel requests my presence at SG-1 team gathering tomorrow night while pointedly saying nothing about anything he may or may not have heard.
Require a few moments to process invitation before finally accepting because of temporary cranial shutdown.
Will definitely be calling Sam for Danielitis consultation as soon as I arrive home from work.
Only fifty minutes to go.
Clock off and head top-side in a rush after spending fifty torturous minutes trying to complete paperwork while battling traitorous wistful thoughts about Daniel.
Upon reaching security gate, realise that pass has been left on desk in office. Spend another fifteen pissed-off minutes going down to retrieve bloody gate-pass. Eventually leave at 2045.
Arrive home after fighting vicious battle against Snowstorm From Hell With Attitude. (Snowstorm: 1, Me: 0 ). Windscreen wipers threatening strike if poor working conditions continue. Open front door, drop keys on hall table.
Enter living room. Discover Teenage Daughter making out on couch with Boyfriend. Unleash wrath of Horrified and Overprotective Mother upon Teenage Daughter's Hapless Boyfriend. Watch in satisfaction as Teenage Daughter's Boyfriend pissbolts out of house.
Have argument with Extremely Annoyed and Somewhat Embarrassed Teenage Daughter about having Boy in house without supervision. Am accused of not living in 'the present' and being 'jealous cos you're not getting any and I am!'
Frown at departing Teenage Daughters last comment and prepare extremely late evening meal.
(Mother's work is never done...)
Sit in bed with mug of warm tea. Release hair from remains of bun and set it to roam free. Avoid looking in bedroom mirror upon risk of heart attack from seeing Psycho Hair. Wish I had hair like people in the movies. Acknowledge that hair is impossible to defeat.
Remember that have not yet called Sam about onslaught of Danielitis and ensuing Non Work Related Daniel- Thoughts. Almost dislocate jaw with gargantuan yawn. Decide 'buggerit' to that idea. Will save medical conferences on subject of Daniel Jackson for tomorrow.
Wake up, beat alarm clock to death. Fall asleep again.
Morning routine continues as usual.
Officially wake up. Feel hot and bothered due to rampant morning Daniel thoughts. Take hot shower, swap to cold shower after experiencing bothersome fantasies of dew-covered Daniel and shower heads. (Oooboy!)
Argue with Snarky Teenage Daughter at bottom of stairs. Get in car, drive to work.
No parking spaces available whatsoever in car park. (As usual). Subtly take General Hammond's parking space after short battle between conscience and necessity. (Necessity wins).
Endure usual battle with security 'supercomputers' at front gate. (They all exploded).
Clock in at office five minutes late (grumble, mutter mutter). Acknowledge fact that being on time is simply a phenomenon that will not happen to me.
Oversee various Creative and Bizarre Medical Emergencies at infirmary. Intergalactic Poison Ivy rears it's ugly head again. SG-4 return home rashes on their arses capable of making Marines cry.
Memorable Aliment Of The Day features entire personnel of SG-9 sprouting feathered wings and flapping around. Very hard to maintain serious conversation with ailing team members when patients are sitting on gurneys irritably twitching their big honkin' angel wings.
Call in Doctor Jackson (*sigh*) to translate writing on slab found by SG-9 on planet. (Two hours of frantic cure-searching and *now* they tell me!).
Keep thinking that I see Daniel indulging glances in my general direction...can't tell for sure, however...suspect that it is once again product of overactive imagination.
Daniel says...ooh what luscious lips you've got there...
Ack! Okay. Don't know what Daniel just said. Was side-tracked by unexpected Non Work Related Daniel- Thought. Ask Daniel to repeat translation again. Studiously avoid letting gaze fall anywhere near his face. My, those biceps are awfully well developed...Yipes!
What was it that Daniel said? Ah,yes. Slab brought back by SG-9 is record of alien culture's scientific experiment. Wings caused by genetically engineered virus serving no particular purpose at all. Aliens evidently abandoned experiment to move on to bigger, better things (slab says something about values of paperclips).
Am led to believe that these (now extinct) aliens were incredibly and utterly bored.
SG-9 ordered to return to 'Wing Virus' planet to retrieve antivirus described on stone slab. Wonder why culture advanced enough to engineer wings only got as far as carving letters into blocks of stone. Then again, Earth uses wads of mashed up tree cleverly disguised as 'paper'.
Hear knock on office door. Oooh! Daniel bearing gifts of coffee! Refrain from caffeine lecture of the day. Rampant Danielitis has taken over all major sections of brain, with symptoms worsening in close proximity to Daniel.
Fail to notice large solid object sitting ominously in Daniel's way. Uh-oh! Time moves in slow motion as Daniel's foot inevitably comes into contact with ...thing... on floor. Contents of coffee mugs sail glorious arches through air as archaeologist crashes downwards.
Colonel O'Neill probably has explanation for Daniel's knack for accidents that would involve magnets. Explanation likely to feature magnetic properties of magnets.
Hot damn. Daniel so attractive even inanimate objects can't get enough of him.
*Ahem* Okay. Definitely not the time for Inappropriate Daniel Thoughts. Currently have sprawl of groaning Daniel spread out over office floor surrounded by a gently steaming pool of coffee.
Take Daniel to Infirmary and examine for injury. Jaw bruised, all other body parts survived fall. Jokingly award him with Most Creative Method Of Getting Injured Award. Thanked with kiss on cheek. Aiiiiee! Oh yes, and pretty sure there was a look of some sort added in there as well. Siiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiigh.
Need couple of minutes to recover from head spin caused by Daniel kissing cheek. Blink eyes vigorously and return to work again.
Notice definite increase in cases of zipper bite amongst male base personnel. Will have to take time to warn all active 'gaters about importance of taking care of 'overhanging appendages' so to speak when in the field. Imagine First Prime reporting back to head Goa'uld with latest means of defeating Tau'ri scum:
First Prime: "My lord. We have new means of defeating the Tau'ri!"
Goa'uld: (laughing evilly)"Speak, Jaffa."
First Prime: "My Jaffa have discovered that they are most vulnerable to attack during the times that they take care of their business behind trees.
If a patrol were to sneak up upon them during this time, the Tau'ri men scream most pitifully and take ahold of their crotches - rendering them immobilised!"
Goa'uld: "We are very pleased, Jaffa. Begin an attack at once!"
Moral of the story?
Zipper bite: the one thing the Tau'ri never expects will become their downfall.
Other parts of day not spent tending to medical emergencies and de-briefings dedicated to a mixture of Danielitis Cure Finding anxiety and Non Work Related Daniel- Thoughts.
Will be meeting with Sam for late lunch at 1430 hours.
Late lunch with Sam. Tell her about sudden development of Danielitis. Ask for help in finding cure - situation apparently hopeless. Sam passes on information disclosed in drunken conversation with Daniel - assured that Daniel has Me!Obsession. Says Daniel not willing to act upon Me!Obsession due to fear of rejection.
Perhaps hope shining on horizon after all.
Return to office to discover some bastard has stolen coffee machine. Am outraged! (But in a very professional way, of course). Would really, really like steaming cup of coffee right now. But nooooooooo, someone's nicked the coffee machine! Begin rounds sans coffee. Patients will have to hope they don't shit me.
Daniel comes to infirmary in panic just as I finish rounds. Expend mental and physical energy trying to calm Daniel down enough for him to form coherent speech.
Non Work Related Daniel- Thought involving the use of 'oral examination' (up close and personal, nudge nudge, wink wink) to shut Daniel up flits across mind. Discover hands moving up towards Daniel's face without permission from brain. Stamp Non Work Related Daniel- Thought down into oblivion. Order Daniel to sit on gurney while he calms down.
Finally calm Daniel down through use of anti-hyperventilation excersises (unfortunately no mouth to mouth action involved).
Daniel informs me his coffee machine is gone. Suffering from caffeine withdrawal. Must find coffee machine now.
Follow Daniel into Sam's Laboratory. Make enquiries into presence/absence of her coffee machine. Sam so absorbed in latest Naquadah reactor, has not noticed that coffee machine is gone. Cower with Daniel in corner as Sam experiences minor missing coffee machine owner rampage.
Rush with Sam and Daniel to office of Colonel O'Neill. Find O'Neill with arse in air scrabbling around underneath desk. Sam stares.
Me: "Excuse us Sir?"
O'Neill: (whacks head on underside of desk) THUD "OW! For crying out...!" (stands up, dusts self off) "Did any of you guys take my coffee machine?"
Share alarmed glances with everyone in room. Inform Colonel of MIA status of our own beloved machines. Decide to take offensive action ASAP.
Brain mutters song to itself while body participates in Search and Rescue mission for missing coffee machines.
Brain: "Going on a coffee machine hunt, Gonna catch a BIG one..." (brain forgets words) "Dum-de-dum-de-dum..."
(eyes register Daniel's behind)
Brain: "Oooooh! Closing in on Daniel's butt now..." (singsong) "Can't go over it, can't go under it! Have to go arouuuuuuund it!"
Brain shorts out trying to decide if Daniel's hand intentionally brushed over own hand or not. Awareness that Daniel has 'Janeteremia' (new official term for Daniel's Me!Attraction) does not help whatsoever.
...That, and Sam's as yet unmentioned suggestion that Danielitis could in fact be misdiagnosis of certain four-lettered L-word. Quickly dismiss thought as being entirely silly.
Search and Rescue Mission pauses outside Teal'c's quarters. Noses register strong scent of sweet mocha brew wafting underneath doorway. Teal'c doesn't own a coffee machine...
Follow O'Neill, Daniel and Sam through Jaffa's unlocked door. Teal'c *definitely* doesn't own three coffee percolators, one espresso maker and a plunger machine!
...is that the box of instant coffee sachets that went missing last Tuesday...?
Enter quarters with astounded look on face. Would never have guessed Teal'c to be abductor of beloved coffee machine. Look over to corner of room to find large hulk of unconscious Teal'c sprawled over bunk bed.
See Daniel dangling handle of empty mug from one capable finger (quite capable, I imagine...). Look back to unconscious Jaffa. Brain makes connection. Caffeine overdose. Junior not responding. Sam hits panic button on nearby wall.
Sam: "Medical team to Teal'c's quarters!"
Admit Teal'c to infirmary with caffeine poisoning. Apparently developed taste for bittersweetness of coffee beans. Drank waaaaaaaay too much coffee. Junior in state of shock, evidently refusing to heal host until recovered from influx of caffeine. Recommend Teal'c stay in infirmary overnight for observation. Guess he will not be accompanying us for dinner tonight with SG-1. (And Daniel).
Berate remaining members of team for not noticing Teal'c's coffee drinking addiction sooner.
Shift ends. Woohoo! Hand over charts to Doctor Warner with borderline over-enthusiasm. Begin heading home. Upon reaching level nine, realise gate pass is resting on table in office. Damn. Travel back down to infirmary again to retrieve pass. Pick up stray roll of sticky tape. Seriously consider taping pass to forehead so as not to forget it again.
Bump into none other than Doctor Jackson on way back up to front gate security. Danielitis kicks in again with spine-tinglingly distracting stuck-in-an-elevator-with-Daniel!Non Work Related Fantasies. Heaven help me! Wonder how I am going to make it through dinner tonight with Sg-1 (And Daniel) without rupturing a blood vessel.
(Or anything else, for that matter).
Arrive home after customary battle with frozen car.
(Me : zero, Frozen Car : one)
Perform regular 'Why Teenage Daughter Should Not Be Allowed To Go To The Movies With Friends (And Boys)' routine. Lose argument with Teenage Daughter. Teenage Daughter will go to the movies with Friends (*sigh* yes, and Boys too) and then sleep over at friends house (Definitely Minus Boys!) while Mother goes out to dinner (with Daniel) and SG-1.
Get ready for dinner with SG-1 (and Daniel).
Shower, shave, brush teeth. Wrestle with hair.
Try on several different combinations of tops and bottoms. All articles of clothing appear to be involved in similar conspiracy to that of hair. Wish I had firmer ass, longer legs, bigger breasts...list goes on. *Sigh*
Brain decides that best course of treating Danielitis is to tackle obsession head-on. Brain thinks that remedying Danielitis with Daniel is most likely form of cure. However, brain is unwilling to negotiate with mouth and vocal chords in asking Daniel out. Suppose self will have to figure this out as it comes. Recall what Sam said Daniel unwilling to act upon Janeteremia unless sure that feelings of Danielitis are returned. Will obviously have to focus on proving Daniel!Interest at dinner tonight.
Carried away by outfit choosing task. Look at clock on bedside table and discover that time has run away. Argh! Am going to be late if outfit not decided upon soon!
Randomly choose pair of tight bootleg jeans and fluffy blue sweater borrowed...okay - pilfered from Sam's locker Monday afternoon. (Was complaining that it was too small for her anyway...no idea what she's talking about! Fits just right on me!).
Apply quick coat of make up (five minutes). Add final touches to hair (seven minutes). Wonder why being female requires so much maintenance. Momentarily wish I was male. Unwish previous wish. Men too stupid for any consideration of Sex Change.
Hair and make up finally done. Stand back and admire result in mirror. Very nice. New wonderbra certainly does trick. Daniel will be impressed...hopefully will be able to send strong message of Daniel!Interest tonight.
Drive to O'Malleys' bar. Unable to find parking space nearby - settle upon illegally parking car. Convinced that American Government conspiring to keep carparks full of cars so that more innocent citizens end up paying parking fines.
Walk into bar. Spot Sam, Jack and Daniel(by the way looking utterly edible in civilian clothes) sitting in booth by wall. Sam subtly changes sides of table to sit next to Jack. Am forced to sit next to Daniel (oh, the agony!).
Share greetings with everyone, get stuck on greeting with Daniel - skivvy doing wonders for physique - oh my! Not-so subtly kicked out of Daniel!Admiration by muscle-spasm from Sam. Will have to make extra-hard effort not to let Daniel!Thoughts carry me away.
Overly perky and exuberantly homosexual waiter bounces to table with menus in hand. Try very hard not to smirk as waiter places down menus with exaggerated gay-man flair. Man must have corneal cramps or something - eyes have strayed - and stayed- fixed upon Daniel.
*Get your eyes off my man, mister!*
Suppress surge of irrational jealousy as Daniel gets ogling. Daniel looking very uncomfortable under scrutiny. Sam and O'Neill quietly snicker behind menus.
Waiter: (long, lustful stare directed to Daniel) "May I take *your* order please?"
*sure. Keep looking at him like that and you'll be taking marching orders from *me* miss-ter.
Daniel: (Flustered because of attention from other male) "I...ah, I..."
O'Neill takes pity on Daniel. Simultaneously saves waiter from certain death-by-Janet. Order steak and mushrooms with glass of beer. Sam makes that an order for four - but with diet coke. (Go figure...).
Homosexual waiter smiles, nods smarmily, prances off to take order to kitchen.
Make point of thrusting forward wonderbra enhanced bust in Daniel's direction. Feel unnecessary need to emphasise fact that waiter hitting on him doesn't own a pair of *these*.
Daniel most definitely distracted. Believe mission to make him aware of Danielitis is working.
Make amicable conversation with friends about issues completely unrelated to work. Unfortunately collective lives outside of work so limited that conversation turns back to work related subjects once again.
Conversation drifts to subject of Teal'c and his new-found addiction to coffee. Notice Daniel is unable to tear eyes away from wonderbra-enhanced sweater while talking to me. Perform little victory dance inside head.
(Homosexual waiter: zero, Me: one).
Gay Waiter returns bearing tray of drinks. 'Accidentally' tips glass of beer all over Daniel's front. Watch waiter make dramatic apologetic gestures as he reaches for Daniel's napkin. Guess waiter's intentions from mile away. Hand snaps out and grabs waiter's wrist before it can go any farther.
Neutralize threat with cold, territorial glare. Remove napkin from Waiter's hand. "I'll handle this." Clean mess from Daniel's shirt with serious expression. Give self pat on back for evening score.
Definite bulge present in Doctor Jackson's pants. Catch Daniel's eyes and give slow seductive smile while Sam, Jack and Gay Waiter look on in surprise. Clean beer off Daniel's shirt and pants with plenty of TLC. If Daniel didn't know about Danielitis before, he most certainly may have an idea about it now...
O'Neill theorises that Jaffa's sudden coffee addiction stems from episode of URGO. Listen to recount of briefing in which Teal'c downed entire pitcher of coffee without second thought. Otherwise intelligent Jaffa ignored all warnings of caffeine overdose due to belief that 'junior' could deal with everything.
Concentration on conversation compromised by Daniel running foot up and down shin. ...Wait a second. Daniel would require excruciating flexibility skills to reach toes across like that. Shoot alarmed glance across table at Sam. Sam's mouth forms mortified 'o' - foot quickly disappears from leg. O'Neill shooting panicked busted-in-denial glance at Sam who is shooting lust-addled in-denial gazes back. Well, now I can be sure of what goes on underneath briefing room table while General Hammond has his back turned...
Annoying gay waiter brings around tray of food. Quash any moves he may have had prepared for Daniel with incredibly evil territorial glare. During dinner send Daniel numerous signals of interest. Receive similar signals in return. Hopefully Daniel now reassured enough to make move. If things go well, may be lucky enough to kill two birds with one stone - end 18 month no-sex drought and cure Danielitis in one go.
By end of night am sharing tentative long-and-lustful-in-denial glances with Daniel while conducting conversation with Sam and Jack. When time comes to break up enjoyable dinner with SG-1 (and Daniel), am at loathe to part with his company. Discover (via subtle line of questioning) that Daniel is parked close by to own (illegally) parked car.
Walk with Daniel to illegally parked car.
Reach car. Discover that police have reached it first. Bastards have clamped wheels. Ticket taped to windshield. Have until Saturday afternoon to pay traffic fine or car will be towed. Why those little...(mutter, mutter, degrading comments about policeman's mom).
Rant about government conspiracies and bastard policemen halted abruptly by sudden presence of Daniel's hand holding down forearm. Daniel has amused smile on face. Well, glad to see that *someone* finds this amusing...bet those bastard cops found it absofuckinglutely hilarious too. Daniel calmly offers lift home. Gratefully accept offer, follow Daniel to his car.
Panicked thought registers in Brain: night almost over = final chance of curing Danielitis ends as soon as we reach front door! Arrgh!
Brain attempts to begin negotiations with vocal cords for course of action. Vocal Cords refuse to participate in diplomatic relations with Brain, even if participation in formation of 'asking Daniel out' speech is essential in saving entire body. Vocal Chords withdraw embassy from Brain. Eyes left to stare longingly at Daniel.
Brain continues panicking.
Stare longingly at Daniel while stepping into his car.
(*nononono gotta think of something to say. Must figure out way of asking Daniel out without actually asking Daniel out. Oh crap.*)
Stare longingly at Daniel while he starts engine.
Stare longingly at Daniel while waiting for traffic lights to change.
Time remaining in which AskingDanielOutMethod may be formed growing shorter by second. Only thing that wilsavemenow would be
herd of stampeding Rhinoceros, or large purple elephant attack. -Both of which are likely to occur only in New York. [Which has so far been hit by everything from pissed off giant gorillas to unexpected tidal waves]).
Well...looks like there'll be no luck there either.
Stare longingly at Daniel while car turns onto my street.
Brain continues panicking.
Stare longingly at Daniel while car pulls into driveway.
Body threatening total shutdown if brain doesn't come up with something Soon.
Stare longingly at Daniel while he walks me to front door.
Brain too busy panicking to register messages being sent by ears and eyes.
Eyes: (to brain) 'Hey. Pay attention here! Daniel's mouth is moving! Oi!'
Brain: 'arrrrgh! Ohgodohgodohgodohgod! Gotta think of something right now! Stall! Think of something! Jump up and down! Anything! Just-Don't-Let-Daniel-Go!'
Ears: (to brain) 'Hearing Daniel's voice. Sending messages - you're not listening...still sending messages...still not listening... Pay attention here. This could be important...'
All senses snapped back into full consciousness by gentle pressure of Daniel's hand on arm. Daniel looks into eyes. Asks if self is alright. Manage to stutter out unconvincing "wha? Oh yeah." But remain trapped in longing stare. Please brain...think of something now!
Hear Daniel say something again. Snap back to attention and ask him to repeat question.
Daniel: "I said, would you like to go out again sometime?"
Me: (half listening)"...oh. Three hundred and eighty-six." (question registers properly with brain) "...I'm sorry, did you just...ask me out?"
Due to previous panic over AskingDanielOut method, am unable to believe that what ears just heard was true.
Watch suspiciously while Daniel shifts on his feet nervously and confirms question again. Check for any pigs with wings flying around neighbourhood.
No pigs - with wings or otherwise - finally believe ears are hearing Daniel correctly. Accept Daniel's offer with enormous feeling of relief. Will finally be able to cure rampant case of Danielitis after all!
Watch Daniel walk down pathway to his car. Something in head makes heart feel heavy - must not let Daniel go. Overtaken by urge to kiss him. Try hard to squash down urge. No luck. Pull of Danielitis too strong. Find self walking briskly down pathway towards Daniel's car. Reach up and grab Daniel by shoulder as he reaches for door handle on car.
Daniel turns around with confused grunt. Cup his cheeks with palms of hands and pull him down into deep kiss. Daniel kisses back.
Ask Daniel if he'd like to come inside.
Yes he would.
...yes he would indeed!
Beat alarm clock into submission. Roll over. Go back to sleep on nice, warm, body-length pillow.
Case of rampant Danielitis appears to have incorporated Doctor Jackson into waking-dream. There is a great big Dream Daniel Jackson sleeping in *my* bed.
Fifteen months of not getting any must be taking toll.
Way too early to get up on a Saturday. Take advantage of nice, warm, body-length, Daniel-Shaped dream pillow. Snuggle up to it. Return to sleep.
Roused from pleasant Daniel-dream by noise of passing garbage truck. Register fact that warm, body-length, Daniel-shaped dream pillow has not dissipated along with Daniel-dream.
Stretch languidly, relish pull of muscles protesting at sudden use. Feel like have done one-thousand sit ups night before. Grin to self. Guess last night's marathon of Danielitis-curing Spank-the-Spacemonkey sex not a dream after all.
Garbage truck passes by again. What the...? Realise sound of passing truck is in fact noise of Daniel's snoring. How romantic. Rest one hand on Daniel's *gorgeous* bare chest while other hand reaches up to clamp down upon his nose.
Laugh gleefully as Daniel wakes up in surprise. Greet him with enthusiastic good-morning kiss.
Something prods insistently against leg, look down with sly grin. Daniel grins back. Feelings of Danielitis come rushing back with full force. Perhaps more than one dosage of Daniel required for sufferer of Danielitis to be cured.
Take in sight of Daniel taking in the sight of me. Return attention back to that insistent prod.
Who am I to complain?
Two days ago wanted to cure feelings of Danielitis and make them disappear. Was convinced that Daniel would be my cure. I was wrong. That doesn't matter to me though. I've changed my mind.
I don't want to be cured of Danielitis for a very, *very* long time...