Sam:
Just how stupid do they think I am? Do they honestly think I haven't noticed what's going on? Are they so delusional that they believe they are being circumspect, or do they think that I'm totally blind and clueless? Pu-lease!
Like that little exhibition during the briefing yesterday. Was I not going to notice how the Colonel went all glassy-eyed staring at Daniel while our sweet, innocent little archaeologist gave a hand job to his pen and then went down on it? I didn't just fall off the turnip truck, you know. I almost broke off my presentation to demand all hands on the tabletop.
And then there was the Colonel's not so subtle interrogation of Daniel's findings. Like he usually cares exactly how long an obelisk has been erect, or exactly how hard the stone is. This is Junior High stuff, and just like adolescents, those guys are not thinking with their heads. Humph! With their brains I mean.
I think it's time they had a taste of their own medicine, for their own good, of course. They need to realize just how transparent their public foreplay is. And it won't hurt to remind them that their sweet, innocent little astrophysicist is in fact neither and can play the game, too.
This is the perfect opportunity and the perfect instrument. I get my diet soda and banana and head to the table where the others are already seated with their coffee, and in Teal'c's case orange juice. The arrangement couldn't be better; all three of them are on one side of the long table, allowing me to face them as my audience. This is going to be fun.
I sip my soda and listen to them do the sports conversation thing, biding my time. Then at an appropriate lull I stand the banana up in front of me, just at the right angle. As I begin my chatter, I casually run one index finger up and down the length of the fruit.
"So have you guys seen the new film that's showing at the independent theater in town, Naqoyquatsi? It's very powerful, don't you think?"
The three men have gone completely still as they watch my hand move. I add a second finger to the caress.
"It's so impressive how the entire thrust of the message goes right to the core completely without verbal stimulation. The sensual visual images and throbbing beat of the music draw you helplessly toward a cathartic climax."
My observers jump and gasp slightly as my fingernails pierce the skin at the top of the fruit. Inch by inch I slowly reveal the tender flesh inside. I feel kind of bad doing this to Teal'c. He doesn't deserve it and he must be starting to wonder if all three of his teammates have lost their minds. Still, it's nice to be the center of attention like this.
"And of course the social commentary nails the penetration of intrusive paradigms into the innocent and responsive human body. Tension is created by the friction of opposites rubbing too intimately, where the sensitive beating heart of humanity is violently taken by dominant technological forces."
I eye the tip of the banana distractedly. As I raise it toward my mouth I slowly run my tongue around the circle of my lips. The men are staring, wide-eyed as I open my mouth wider and bring the sweet, white fruit toward my waiting tongue. At the last moment I nonchalantly pull the banana away again and continue.
"Then, of course, on the meta level it makes us consider our own position in the orgy of cosmic creation. Will our performance lead to the satisfaction, the fulfillment of our highest aspirations, or will our carnal desires culminate in impotence and sterility?"
I quickly bite the end off the banana, chew and swallow. I continue to eat as I draw to a close, my audience looking somewhat pale and disconcerted.
"Anyhow, it's quite a potent movie. It takes some stamina to keep up all the way to the end, don't you think, Daniel?"
I couldn't stop myself from picking on my little brother, because I knew he would turn that bright shade of red and stammer adorably.
"I...uh...haven't..."
"Oh? Well you really should. I think you would enjoy it."
As my esteemed leader would say, I think my work here is done. I hold the end of the banana so the peel hangs flaccidly from my fingers. I plan to make a smooth exit, but my teammates beat me to it with a sudden scattering of chairs and muttered excuses. I smile with contentment as I take our trays to the cart. Not half bad if I do say so myself.
As I'm making my way back to my lab I walk past Daniel's office. The door is shut, which is unusual. Then I hear a muffled thump, like the sound of a body hitting the door with accompanying gasps and moans. I frown briefly. I'm not entirely sure Jack and Daniel got the point of the message I was trying to give them.
Then I smile. Maybe Doctor Sam will have to continue treatments. Perhaps the next dose will need to include demonstrating that closed doors are not necessarily soundproof.
In the meantime, though, I think I'll go see what Teal'c is up to. I know that he's as concerned about our friends' welfare as I am. Maybe he will help me come up with a more hands-on approach to the therapy. I'm sure Teal'c will have a good idea of what to do next.
Daniel:
Sam sits down across from us, giving us her usual bright smile. I raise an eyebrow at her choice of snack-a banana and a diet Coke. Since when does Sam like bananas? She told me she hated them when I got one for her last week at breakfast. She smiles, her attention fixed on Jack as he describes a play from the hockey game we watched last night. His hands swoop and swirl as he relives the play. I try to look vaguely disinterested. Keep up my image on base as the geek who doesn't like sports. But ice hockey has taken on a whole new meaning since I've met Jack. I watch Jack's hands, remembering the feel of them on me after the game last night. I know every callus, every scar on those hands.
Jack finishes by slamming one hand into the other with a resounding smack. "I tell you, Teal'c, it was sweet. Perfection. Right, Daniel?"
I resist the urge to tug my T-shirt away from my neck, despite the rising temperature. "Yeah, Jack, sweet." I say, hoping that my voice doesn't sound as strangled as I feel.
There is blessed silence for a time. I feel Jack's knee against mine, his leg bouncing in deference to the rest of his body being still.
Sam lifts her banana, starting to talk about some new movie she saw downtown. I try to pay attention to her words, really I do, but Sam is slowly touching, all right, caressing that banana.
I can't move. I try to focus on Sam's face as she continues to talk, but my eyes are fixed on her hand, her slim fingers dancing up and down the length of the fruit. I catch a word here and there...thrust, stimulation, sensual, throbbing, climax.
When did they decide to turn the heat up in the Mountain? All this talk of budget cuts, they could save a bundle if they'd keep the heat at a reasonable level. I'll have to discuss that with General Hammond later. I'm sure I could do some research and find out just what the savings would be.
I realize that Jack's knee is no longer bouncing. He is completely still.
Sam begins peeling the banana, slowly as her voice lowers slightly. The words still flow from her: penetration, friction, rubbing, dominant.
I try very hard to concentrate on her analysis of the film, sure that Sam's observations are insightful. My mouth is dry, but I'm unable to even bring my hand to my coffee mug, totally paralyzed by her actions.
What the hell is she doing now? Thank God, she's finally going to eat it. I really should get out of here before I totally embarrass myself and let out a moan or rip my shirt off because of this damn heat.
The words go on and on: orgy, satisfaction, fulfillment, impotence (please, dear God, not that), sterility.
Sam finally takes a bite and swallows. I watch her throat as the muscles move. I wonder if my mouth is hanging open. I can't even tell anymore, unable to feel anything except a building pressure in my groin and my pounding heart.
"Potent, stamina, keep it up, Daniel?"
I may be a linguist, but I have no idea what Sam just asked me. Probably my opinion on the film. Hell, I don't even remember what movie she's talking about.
I can feel the heat that's filling the rest of my body flush my face and neck. I look at Sam's sweet smile, and manage to make some sort of sound that I hope translates as, "I don't know, Sam. I haven't seen it yet."
Sam lifts the banana peel, getting ready to scoot her chair back.
"Um, I just remembered I have a very important translation to do." My voice comes out in a near squeak. "See you later, Sam, Jack, Teal'c."
I close my office door in relief but not before Jack enters and locks it behind him.
I pull at my shirt, now frantic to get it off. Jack's hands are at the waistband of my pants, his fingers unbuttoning my fly while his mouth covers mine greedily.
"God, Danny." He mumbles as his lips travel down my neck. He lets out a groan as he tugs at my pants.
I push Jack against the door, my turn to take care of him. He is gasping while I try to get to him, my fingers gone clumsy. I pull at the buttons, watching them skitter across my floor.
Jack pushes his body against mine, our cocks rubbing as we nearly fall to the floor. I moan against his shoulder, trying not to shout his name.
His kisses grow harder, more frantic. Jack tastes of coffee and desire. His hand touches my cock, his grip gentle despite our overwhelming need for release.
"Yes, yes." I hear myself panting. Jack's hand tightens, squeezes. I lift into his hand, my hands seeking him. I smile against his chest as I find what I am seeking.
I shudder as Jack continues his ministrations; feel his answering shudder as I begin my own.
A loud gasp escapes me as I come, Jack only a moment behind me. We slide down the door and lie on the floor until I summon the effort to move, to pull Jack up. The concrete can't be good for his knees, his back. Wouldn't want him stiff or anything.
We are silent as we move to the small sink in my office. I hand him some paper towels wordlessly, unable to meet his eyes.
"We shouldn't have."
"I know, Daniel." Jack places his hands on my shoulders, giving a little shake. "But we did and God," his voice trails off.
"Yeah." I agree. I smile at him. A thought, a not so pleasant thought occurs to me. "You don't think Sam knows do you?"
"Carter? Don't be ridiculous." Jack scoffs. "We're careful. Well, except for this one time."
"But that...you know...that whole banana thing." I move my hands, mimicking her movements earlier.
"Was just Carter eating a banana." Jack nods confidently. He frowns. "Although...nah, Danny. Not Carter. She wouldn't."
I glance at the door, another worry coming to the fore. "You don't think anyone heard, do you?"
"They're soundproof, Daniel. Trust me." Jack takes my hands in his. "And now you can help me find those buttons. I sure hope you have a sewing kit somewhere in here."
Jack's right. Sam wouldn't ever be so devious. Would she? I get to my hands and knees to start searching for the missing buttons. I smile as my fingers close around the first one. And even if she was, well the outcome was sure a lot of fun.
Teal'c:
Pa'kree? Major Carter is acting very strangely this morning. Her words are at odds with her actions, and equally at odds with the expression in her eyes. I suspected during the briefing yesterday that perhaps she was unwell. She directed some most impatient looks at Daniel Jackson and as O'Neill elicited the details of the obelisk and its composition, I thought I heard her snort. It occurred to me then that Major Carter's behavior was not in character: she usually enjoys Daniel Jackson's finds and theories, as do I. It is more like Major Carter to display impatience with O'Neill's flippancy, as do we all. But yesterday I particularly noted that O'Neill was making appropriate enquiries, which Daniel Jackson took pleasure in answering. It was a refreshing change. And I am sure she did snort.
I was not aware that she enjoys bananas - in fact, did she not complain just last week because there was nothing else available? I am certain she did.
There is something very familiar about the way she is holding that fruit. Is there possibly some comedic value here that I am missing? I do not think so. But it reminds me of something that I have seen... there is nothing that I can immediately call to mind about Tau'ri culture to shed any light on the matter, although it is strange that Jerry Springer comes persistently into my thoughts.
Perhaps O'Neill is correct: too much Jerry Springer is A Bad Thing. But it is very informative to see how Tau'ri mating rituals differ from Jaffa. Especially in the matter of sexual attraction and the absurd issue some Tau'ri make of gender. In this respect, they are still children even though they may be, as O'Neill puts it, 'big hitters' in the fight against the Goa'uld.
Wait, I think I have it. My faculties must be diminishing as I age. Or maybe I did not realize that Tau'ri culture is not so divorced from that on Chulak after all at the base level. A quick glance at O'Neill and Daniel Jackson confirms my conclusion. They have both become very still. No part of O'Neill is moving and that is unusual. His mouth is hanging open - as is Daniel Jackson's. Yes indeed, they have both obviously purchased what O'Neill calls an inkling. The same one that I have just purchased.
It is very puzzling: it will require some thought on my part to work out exactly why she is acting in this way. She very rarely does anything without a purpose, but I cannot exactly divine what her purpose might be. No, this is not quite the truth: I am certain that her purpose is sexual arousal. And it is remarkably effective, that has to be admitted: my prim'ta apparently agrees with me and grows restless, but then it is adolescent and consequently becoming especially observant in such matters.
But the puzzle is not yet solved - rather it has moved in a new direction. One question is answered, but two others are left in its wake. Why here? And why now? And yet a third comes to mind: at whom is this display directed? Her relationship with Daniel Jackson has never been more than fraternal, so it cannot be him. Six months ago I would have said with certainty that the object of her attentions would be O'Neill, and indeed this kind of public invitation would no doubt appeal to his sense of subtlety, which is often sadly lacking: but Major Carter must surely be aware by now that O'Neill and Daniel Jackson have at long last embarked upon a sexual relationship.
Mai'tac! I ra be 'bju? It is the only possibility that remains. Aah, would that that were true! I have long admired Major Carter as a warrior and a thinker, and even a blind man would have to admit that she is also beautiful. But this - this is a talent that I have not allowed myself to consider seriously until now. And my mind is working like a poet's, where previously I thought it had no right to work at all.
Teal'c, shak'ti'qua? Jaffa kree! I cannot allow myself to continue in this vein, not here in the commissary, although I cannot stop myself as long as I remain. I must retire from the field and consider my next move. A strategic withdrawal to consider tactics is my only option, until I have myself under control again. I needs must meditate on this at the very least; my prim'ta is growing more agitated by the moment.
"I am retiring to my quarters. There is something there that I must attend to."
O'Neill and Daniel Jackson have also risen and are intending to depart. Major Carter - Samantha - is glancing at me but I dare not linger to read her expression.
Never has the route from the commissary to my quarters seemed so lengthy or so uncomfortable and as I finally arrive and start to light the candles, I feel my body shaking: calming my prim'ta and myself is going to take a considerable effort. Indeed, I think the effort may be quite beyond me. As I sit cross-legged in the circle, I cannot empty my thoughts of the image of the fruit, Samantha's fingers on the fruit, Samantha's mouth descending towards the tip...
The soft knock at the door, when it comes, is a welcome relief, and the blonde head sliding round the edge of the door in answer to my invitation to enter seems inevitable, as in a dream.
"Teal'c... oh, you're busy. I'll come back later."
I scramble to my feet. Daniel Jackson has a saying for moments such as these, a saying in an ancient Tau'ri tongue: Carpe Diem. It is time to see if my analysis is correct.
"Kel sha, Samantha Carter. I am never too busy for you. Indeed, you might be able to assist me with something also..."
"Sure, if I can."
"... although you may go first. But it is warm in here and I am uncomfortable. Please allow me to change before we begin and then I will be totally aural and at your disposal."
"All ears, Teal'c," she corrects automatically, but her eyes are on me and her mouth is slightly open as I slowly peel off the top half of my attire and wipe the sweat which is glistening on my torso. Her face flushes, but she does not look away, indeed her eyes follow every movement of my hand. I do not think she is aware that her hand is flexing and clenching in time with my own.
I am encouraged to think that my analysis of her earlier behavior may have been correct as she moistens her lips with her tongue. My prim'ta definitely thinks so...
Coda: Jack
"Daniel, if we can't find all the buttons, I'm just going to have to get a new shirt. I'll just head along to my quarters; the laundry should be back by now. You wanna come with, then we'll go get another coffee?"
He looks a bit doubtful. "I don't know, do you think we're safe now? I mean to go back to the commissary? Sam's bound to have left by now, right?"
"Quit your worryin', for crying out loud. I'm sure that wasn't deliberate." I haul him in for another quick kiss of the reassuring variety. "It's not Carter's style, you know that. Now c'mon, before anyone comes along and we do get some awkward questions to answer."
A last minute mutual check to make sure we look respectable - well, as respectable as you can look in a fatigue shirt with several missing buttons: not technically out of uniform, but not exactly in uniform either - and we're off. And we're lucky; we meet nobody except a couple of very junior airmen as we saunter along to the elevator. So no reason for Daniel to hyperventilate. Me, I could brazen it out, but Daniel needs a bit of practice in this area, so all in all this is a good thing.
By the time we reach our floor, I've pretty well managed to talk him round about the Carter thing and he's looking a lot happier.
We have to pass the Big Guy's door to get to my quarters and as we do, we hear the strangest sound, a kinda strangled moaning sound. Daniel and I freeze in our tracks for a split second and just look at each other.
"Did you hear something? I thought I heard something."
"Yeah, I did. There it is again. C'mon, sounds like the T-man might be in trouble."
Daniel's hand is heading for the handle when we hear another moan, softer than the last one, and a few words in Goa'uld. In Carter's voice. Carter can speak Goa'uld? Who knew?
"What's she sayin'?"
Daniel's frozen in place, his hand still hovering over the handle, as he murmurs faintly, "Sounded like 'Shor'wai'e - Yas - Yas. Shor'wai'e, Teal'c."
"Meaning?"
"Faster - now, now! Faster, Teal'c!"
I bat Daniel's hand away as I grin.
"Well, whaddya know. Teal'c, Carter, you dogs. No need to worry, Daniel, at least I don't think so. Sounds like the Big Guy might have struck lucky."
As he turns to face me, Daniel's face is white, a study in pure horror.
"What? You're worried about Teal'c and Carter gettin' jiggy?"
"I thought you said these doors were soundproof?" he hisses.
I shrug. "I thought they were. We'd better remember that in future. Don't worry though, nobody heard anything earlier."
"How do you work that out?"
"Well," I say reasonably, "nobody burst in on us, did they? Which they presumably would have done if they heard two male voices instead of one of each type. And look at it this way: if Carter's little performance in the commissary was deliberate, we now know why. C'mon, let's go get my shirt."
But, I'm thinkin', I really should have a quiet word with Carter, let her know that it might be a good idea to be a bit more careful on base. Better still, I'll get Daniel to do it: less... formal, and besides, she won't take him out at the knees...