Slash fic: A loving committed relationship between two people who just happen to be men.
Title: Stories from the Table: The Briefing Room
Author: Debi C
Date: 8 March 2003
Feedback: dcole6@satx.rr.com
Rating: PG
Pairing: Jack/Daniel
Category: Slash, Established Relationship, Angst, Hurt/Comfort
Status: Finished
Series: I think maybe so. I hope so.
Season/Spoilers: Stargate The Movie, Children of the Gods, Singularity, Politics, Rite Of Passage.
Archive: Alpha Gate. Area 52, TheBoy, The Cartouche. Anyone else please ask.
Synopsis: Something from a different point of view. POV of a table that is owned by the SGC and can be used anywhere in the complex.
Notes: From an off list discussion about things in the SGC and what they experience. Alpha’d by Devra, Beta’d by CelticAngel, but any mistakes are solely my own and should not reflect on her at all as I’m a tad odd. I mean, this is from a table’s point of view for crying out loud!
Warnings: This fic has the possibility of placing Jack and Daniel within the realm of Real Life. Please do no read if you do not wish to see the guys engaged in any of the following: Sleeping, hugging, caring, loving, needing, giving and receiving comfort and joy. Humm, there are toes here along with other body parts but they’re not a focal point this time. I will have to work on this literary flaw in the future.
Disclaimer: Stargate SG-1 and its characters are the property of Showtime/ Viacom, MGM/UA, Double Secret Productions, and Gekko Productions. I do not own the characters and indeed am only playing with them for a little while. I am not making any money from this so there's very little point in suing me. No copyright infringement whatsoever is intended. The story is for entertainment purposes only. At least I hope it's entertaining. The original characters, situations and story are mine. Please check with me first if you want to archive or link to this story.
I Am I Said, Written By Neil Diamond
"I am," I said
To no one there
An no one heard at all
Not even the chair
"I am," I cried "I am," said I
And I am lost, and I can't even say why
Leavin' me lonely still
Stories from the Table: The Briefing Room
I am a table. I am a rectangular four-foot wide by eight-foot long, golden oak table with lots of grain, a leg on each corner, and a polyurethane sealant. This is important, because though it removes me from the level of ‘fine’ furniture, it adds to my versatility and my longevity. I was purchased in the early 90’s by the U.S. Air Force Quartermaster in a spasm of upgrades for the offices of NORAD. After I was delivered I was reassigned to a priority slot in a new command under the mountain cryptically referred to as SGC. I can seat eight formally, ten comfortably, and twelve friendly. Because I was purchased without chairs, I knew that my life would be one of utilitarianism not formal dining. In other words, I’ll see a lot of service of all kinds.
Presently, I’m being used in the Commanding General’s briefing room to hold a thirty cup coffee maker, Styrofoam cups, creamer, sweetener, stirrers, napkins, and several trays containing numerous varieties of donuts, danishes, and specifically chocolate walnut cookies. The latter seems to be a particular idiosyncrasy of this command as they appear at every briefing I’ve ever supported.
In the last several years, I have learned more about pre-human civilizations, energy dynamics, wormhole physics, and something called naquadah than I ever wanted to know. Today has been one for discussion of the value of the continued study of the first subject. It is a fairly large group in attendance all concerned with the aspects of uninterrupted study versus the discontinuation of. And there has been some heated debate involved from several different viewpoints. A break has been called and I am now surrounded by both civilian and military personnel. Some are familiar, some are new.
Two Air Force Officer Ladies are presently at my front. They are not talking about the subject at hand. They are discussing someone named Cassie, who is only sixteen, and her now-pierced navel.
“Didn’t she have to have parental consent to do that?” Tall Lady Sam demanded of her friend, a small medical doctor type.
“Evidently that now consists of a forged note signed ‘Cassie’s mom‘.” Small lady Janet responded sarcastically to the tall woman scientist. I’ve known both for several years. “I’m going to have this bozo’s license revoked and his certification reviewed.” Small lady replied angrily. “It just pisses me off.” She exclaimed in a slightly louder voice.
“UH, oh.” A masculine voice joined them. He’s a familiar patron of mine, this tall Air Force man. The mobiles refer to him as Jack or Colonel. Many a dribble of hot coffee has he drabbled on my thankfully sealed surface. “Who’s pissing off my favorite doc, Doc?” He’s with a Outsider Military Man. “You both know Major Davis.” He introduces the interloper laconically.
Outsider Military Paul nods. “Of course, and its Paul.”
Tall and Small Ladies murmur a greeting. Then tall Lady Sam continues. “Your foster-daughter, Colonel.” Small Lady Janet looks up at him.
“She came home with a pierced navel, Colonel.” Tall Lady Sam put in. She looked at him sideways. “You wouldn’t know anything about that would you, Sir?”
Tall Military Jack shook his head vigorously. “Oh, that would be a no. Uh uh. Body piercing is NOT a thing of mine. You need to look for a younger villain; body piercing was so not a teen thing when I was growing up in the sixties.
“Younger as in...?”
“Don’t know, Majors, I don’t even think Daniel can be blamed for this one.”
Tall Lady Sam looked thoughtful. “No, I think you’re right. I’ve never noticed anything on him.” Small Lady Janet nods in agreement.
“Besides,” Tall Military Jack commented. “She’ll probably just get tired of it and let it grow over if you don’t make a big deal about it.”
“I hope so, Colonel.” Small Lady Janet sighed. She picked up her danish pastry, reheated her coffee and the two Ladies walked off towards their seats.
Tall Military Jack poured himself another cup of black coffee and inspected the offerings on the pastry trays. Another familiar Medium Military Man came up next to him. “Good morning, Colonel, Major Davis.”
“Hello, Lou.” Tall Military Jack greets his co-worker. Outsider Military Paul nods at Medium Military Lou and says hello.
Medium Military Lou poured a cup of coffee, selected a chocolate walnut cookie and bit into it. “You know, I believe this is the only briefing room in the US Air Force that has these particular cookies on it.”
“I know so.” Outsider Military Paul replied as he picked up a cinnamon donut. “You can get these lots of other places, and the regular donuts and danishes are everywhere, but only at the SGC to you get those chocolate walnut cookies.”
They all laugh softly. “Who would have thought it five years ago?” Tall MilitaryJack nods, sipping his coffee.
“Them and Fifth Avenue candy bars.” Medium Military Lou grimaced. “Where is Daniel anyway? I haven’t seen him.”
Tall Military Jack looked around. “Humm, not here yet? He must be gathering ammunition.”
“Oh, I bet. He must be thrilled over this new development.”
Tall Military Jack shrugged. “It’s the budget, Lou. The politicians want more bangs for their bucks.”
“There is just some concern as to the direction that this project is taking.” Outsider Military Paul comments. “They just want more concentration in the productive results in weaponry and technology, not to kill the scientific or the sociological studies completely.”
“I bet that just sets Daniel‘s teeth on edge,” Medium Military Lou commented.
Tall Military Jack nodded, at his companion’s words then pointed. “There he is now.” He waved at the crowd.
A Tall Civilian man approached, one of my regulars, carrying a pile of books, which he sat down on my surface next to the cookie tray. “Good morning, Jack, Lou. Good to see you, Paul.” He greeted them each in turn.
Tall Military Jack smiled. “Did you bring the whole library?”
“No, but if I thought it would help I would have.” Tall Civilian Daniel replied. “They’ve got to realize how important this will be in the future.”
Medium Military Lou slapped him on the shoulder. “Give ‘em hell, Daniel.” He picked up another cookie and he and Outsider Military Paul wander off with their coffee and pastries.
Tall Military Jack leaned over close to Tall Civilian Daniel as he picks up a cream filled donut and murmurs softly. “How are you, love?”
Tall Civilian Daniel looked at him through lowered eyelashes, and he replied equally softly. “Determined, frustrated, disgusted.”
“That sounds like something I’d like to fix.” Tall Military Jack whispered back. “Or have lots of fun trying to.”
“I’m serious, Jack!” Tall Civilian Daniel spoke up and hit my surface with a fist, bouncing the coffee cups and vibrating the trays. A few people turned to look at the pair then return to their own conversations.
“Yeah, Daniel. I know, I understand...but don’t tear yourself up over it.” Tall Military Jack said calmly and covered Daniel’s fist with his hand, softening it and warming my surface with their combined touch. A voice came from across the room to re-adjourn the meeting.
Tall Civilian Daniel studied their hands as Jack puts the cream filled donut into his mouth and raised his eyebrows at him. “Careful,” He warned.
Tall Military Jack bit down on the pastry, chewed the donut and licked his lips. “Why?” He asked in a low voice, all innocence.
“I can’t give a coherent presentation with that image in my head, Jack. Cool it.”
Tall Military Jack swallows the pastry then smiled at him with veiled eyes. “Gotcha, I’ll be good.”
“Yeah, right.”
“Yachuryabettcha.” This smile was sweet, calming. “Go get’em, Tiger.”
The meeting was over; everyone else had gone. Daniel was still at the conference table, piling his books and his notes in a stack to carry back to his office. The door opened and closed quietly and a shadow came and stood next to me, waiting.
Daniel picked up his books and started to pass by then stopped, seeing the shadow. He put the large stack down on my surface.
The shadow approached. The young man was drawn to the darkness that reached out to enfold him in its arms.
“Hey.”
“Hey.”
“You did good, Danny.”
“I lost.”
“No, I wouldn’t say that. You can still do your research.”
“I didn’t win.”
“But you stayed even. That’s important too, keeping the idea alive.”
The two men leaned against my rounded edge, Daniel soft in Jack’s arms. “At least they didn’t all leave the room this time.” Daniel murmured into Jack’s shoulder, evidently recalling a previous presentation.
“No one would do that here, love. People want to come to your lectures.” Jack’s strength held him safe, stroking his back in small circles. “You’re respected here. You’re probably one of the most universally liked people in the whole command.”
“Yeah, right.”
“I’m serious, Daniel. The military members, the civilian workers, even our alien allies respect you,” O’Neill continued. “The Asgard, the Tollan, the Nox, the Tok’ra. I mean they may like me, or Carter, or Teal’c one at a time but they all like you. Hell, even the glowy people like you.”
Daniel doesn’t reply, but places his hands on Jack’s face and draws him down in a kiss. Jack slips his hands under Daniel’s bottom and lifts him the few inches to sit on my surface. I hold his weight easily. He wraps his arms and legs around his lover and leans into Jack’s arms. They stay like this for a long while, comforting and comforted.
Finally, Jack kisses the top of his Daniel’s head and tilts his head back, and looks into the blue eyes. “C’mon, let’s go home.”
“I have some work...” Daniel begins to argue.
“It’s nineteen thirty hours, Danny. Home.” Jack ends the discussion.
“Okay,” he sighed. “Talked me into it. Dinner?”
“Steaks, potatoes, and salad a la Castle O’Neill.” Jack replies. “No more stalling. C’mon love.”
Civilian Daniel slips off me and picks up the stack of books. Military Jack gathers the notes and slides. Together they leave the room and turn off the last light, leaving me in darkness.
I am a table. I am a rectangular four foot wide by eight foot long golden oak with lots of grain, a leg on each corner, and a polyurethane sealant. I was purchased in the early 90’s by the U.S. Air Force Quartermaster for NORAD. After I was delivered I was reassigned to a priority slot in a new command under the mountain cryptically referred to as SGC. I can seat eight formally, ten comfortably, and twelve friendly. Because I was purchased without chairs, I knew that my life would be one of utilitarianism not formal dining. In other words, I’ll see a lot of service of all kinds. I like my life.
the end.
