I come in peace and bring crappy fic!!
Jun. 23rd, 2005 12:37 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
prowler_pilotTitle: Déjeuner chez O’Neill
Rating: Pg-13 for sexual innuendoes
Classification: Mini!Jack, Mini!Sam, Mini!Daniel, ---> Mini OT3!!
Summary: The mini humans just having a little fun. I left angst and introspection for some other time.
Disclaimers: Don’t own them, never did.
AN: It’s just a really stupid piece. My Muse declines every responsibility regarding the conception of this fanfic.
Sam’s sensory awareness returned slowly. She didn’t move, trying to prolong that delightful moment of floating between sleep and wake, when reality set back in and sweet dreams faded with a promise of more to come. A special place and time that life didn’t allow her to dwell too often in.
Dancing sunrays went to tickle her closed eyelids, and the cheerful twittering of birds gently filled her ears. Finally came the wet, feathery feeling of butterfly kisses climbing up the column of her neck to her chin. From both sides.
With the exact purpose of luring her out of sleep.
She detected the different textures and shapes of their familiar mouths even in the haze she was in, placing Jack – thin-lipped, nose occasionally rubbing against her skin – to her right, and Daniel – fuller lips, soft, self-conscious in their actions – to her left.
She stirred and sighed to let them know she was awake, but didn’t open her eyes, willing to enjoy, if only for a few more minutes, the undivided attention of her men.
“Lunch’s almost ready.” Daniel whispered in her ear while a stray hand slipped under her t-shirt to splay on her abdomen.
Her stomach grumbled at the mention of food and she reluctantly propped herself up onto her elbows. The linen hammock swayed with the harsh movement and she planted a foot on the ground to steady her balance.
“What’s on the menu today?”
“Jack burned steaks.” Daniel snorted and got an elbow in the ribs and a slap on his butt in response.
“They’re *well-cooked*, not burned. Rare is…” he trailed off. Rare reminded them of staff blasts to chests, backs, limbs. Blood trickling out of half-burned flesh, pooling at the feet of the still shapes on the ground. The acre smell of rotting bodies.
Well-cooked was safer. Brown, thin, tender, like when they were children. And after all, they weren’t much more than children, at least physically
“Hey, I…” He shook his head. “C’mere, you two.” He leaned forward to kiss them both, and Sam felt strangely comforted when she tasted Daniel on Jack’s lips.
“And Dan here made Pasta Primavera.”
“Edible.” He pointed out.
Sam snorted and stretched, allowing herself a last yawn before surrendering to the two gorgeous boys next to her and to her desolately empty stomach.
“What’s your contribution to lunch, little lazy a…” Jack was cut off mid-phrase by a distinctively female hand slipping into the back pocket of his blue jeans and squeezing gently. He glanced sideways and saw Daniel’s Adam’s apple bob up and down for a split second as she did the same to him with her other hand.
“I bought ice cream.” She sniffed the air for signs of her meal.
“Aw, c’mon Sam. We risked our lives in the kitchen and you just *bought* ice cream? I thought we were going for the healthy and natural this week.”
And then she went all wide-eyed and a shy smile grazed her kiss-swollen lips. He hated the effect it had on him. That and the adorably mussed morning hair and her overall sleepy appearance.
When she was like that she could feed him rat poison cake and he wouldn’t deny her.
“Passing classes requires time, you know.” If that was possible, her eyes widened even more and one eyebrow raised slightly. “I got the one with the donut chunks in it.”
“Y’ know I love you, right?” Sam snorted at the way his eyes had lit up at the very mention of his favourite junk food.
She shot him a reproachful look and he shrugged. If he had to stuff himself with fat and cholesterol, he might as well do it in style.
He stopped mid-track and looked back at the desert street a few yards from them. Satisfied by the lack of overzealous social services employees or NID moles , he bent down and captured her lips in a gentle kiss. She responded willingly and tightened her hold on Daniel’s jeans when he tried to walk forward as the kiss deepened.
“There’s Italian coffee for you. Low fat.” She gasped breathlessly as his mouth descended on her neck, his body pushing up against her back, hips tight to her bottom.
“What would we do without you, Sam?” His hands gently trailed up her hips to her waist, where they encountered Jack’s. Fingers entwined and thumbs rubbed circles while keeping the girl firmly in place between them.
“I have a few ideas…” Jack trailed off and reached over Sam’s shoulder to kiss Daniel fully on the mouth.
Sam impatiently rolled her hips, making sure to press hard enough against their crotches.
“If I remember well, *I* was the one working late and who missed the movie and the food. Not to mention the after-movie.”
Daniel abruptly pulled back from Jack, sending him a glare that Sam missed.
“There was *no* after movie.” He said, frustration evident in his voice. “Our big man here was snoring like a lethargic bear two minutes into the first episode.”
“He was making *me* watch *Futurama*. And you know how I feel about Futurama.” He cocked his head to the side, silently pleading Sam to side with him.
“Futurama is at least as cool as the Simpsons are.” She shrugged and wriggled out of their combined embrace, the call of food too strong for her to ignore much longer.
The men watched her stride to the laid table in a trademark military walk, and smiled. Whoever talked so much about swaying hips and feline movements had underestimated the power of squared out shoulders and confident steps. Not to mention the ‘chest out’ thing.
“Just because you can identify with that bitch Leela.” Jack called after her. Chest out or not, he wasn’t going to let this one go. No one could compare the Simpsons with Futurama and get away with that. Not even her.
She spun around on her heels and her hands went immediately to her hips.
“Me, Leela? Me, Leela?” For a moment he thought her eyes were going to pop out of her head.
“And who would you be, Fry? Maybe I could order a pizza, since you burned the steaks.”
“I told you, the steaks weren’t…Hey! I don’t want to be Fry. If I have to be someone from that show, I want to be Bender.”
Out of the corner of his eye he saw Daniel pick up his pace and stand beside Sam.
“Nah, Reynolds is Bender. You’re stuck with Fry.” She smiled sheepishly. “Besides, you couldn’t sleep with me if you were Bender.”
Daniel sighed dejectedly. Why did she have to play along every time?
“Good point. And Spacemonkey here can be Zoidberg.”
Right. Because then they could gang up and make fun of him together.
“Definitely.”
“Sweet. Dan, can you do the sideways walk?”
He glared.
“That gives a whole new meaning to the word ‘interracial’.” He heard Sam snort and this time they both glared.
“Jack, about that medieval history paper due next week…” The speech sorted the desired effect. O’Neill scowled, the playful grin disappearing from his face.
“Oh, look. Lunch is ready.” He cut him off and tramped to the table, the other two teenagers in tow.
Sam turned to smile apologetically at Daniel and got a reproachful look in return. She drew her lower lip into her mouth and chewed on it until she heard him breath out a puff of air and an arm curled around her waist, pulling her gently to him.
“You know he’s gonna be grumpy all lunch, now, don’t you?” She leaned her head on his shoulder, enjoying the feel of the grass blades tickling her bare feet, and looked at Jack puttering around the barbeque.
“We’ll make it up to him later. And you know he does it specifically for this purpose.” Not that he was complaining either.
He released her and each took a seat as Jack dished out generous portions of pasta, making sure to produce more noise than necessary when he put the plate in front of Daniel, slamming it down in mock offence.
Sam lifted her eyes to the sky and touched Jack’s forearm as he sat down beside her.
“I got the double pack.”
“The one with the Simpsons action figures?” A grin found its way to his face.
“Yep. So you can play with those and leave my project alone.”
“By the way, how is it coming along?” Daniel asked through a mouthful of pasta.
“It’s coming. I guess I’ll have it ready by the end of the week so I can work on how to do the presentation on Monday. This high school thing really sucks.” After years spent working on alien technology -something that her other self still did – the most stimulating task she’d had so far was a model showing the process of orogenesis for her earth science class And she was behind in French. She definitely didn’t have a gift for French.
“If I just had some Naquadah I could just…”
“It’s a bloody high school assignment, Sam. And your IQ doubles that of all the kids in the class put together anyway. The whole school probably.” His eyebrows rode up and he leaned forward, head slightly tilted to the side.
She smiled and accepted his kiss, pulling away only when his hands sneaked under her shirt and started toying with the hem of her cotton bra.
“And yet I’m crap at French.”
Daniel immediately puffed out his chest. “You help me with calculations of limits, I help you with French verbs. Deal?”
“Deal.”
She looked down at her empty plate and then up at Jack with an expectant look.
“So, where’s my steak?”
***
Fin
Hey, I'd told ya it was crappy!!
Rating: Pg-13 for sexual innuendoes
Classification: Mini!Jack, Mini!Sam, Mini!Daniel, ---> Mini OT3!!
Summary: The mini humans just having a little fun. I left angst and introspection for some other time.
Disclaimers: Don’t own them, never did.
AN: It’s just a really stupid piece. My Muse declines every responsibility regarding the conception of this fanfic.
Sam’s sensory awareness returned slowly. She didn’t move, trying to prolong that delightful moment of floating between sleep and wake, when reality set back in and sweet dreams faded with a promise of more to come. A special place and time that life didn’t allow her to dwell too often in.
Dancing sunrays went to tickle her closed eyelids, and the cheerful twittering of birds gently filled her ears. Finally came the wet, feathery feeling of butterfly kisses climbing up the column of her neck to her chin. From both sides.
With the exact purpose of luring her out of sleep.
She detected the different textures and shapes of their familiar mouths even in the haze she was in, placing Jack – thin-lipped, nose occasionally rubbing against her skin – to her right, and Daniel – fuller lips, soft, self-conscious in their actions – to her left.
She stirred and sighed to let them know she was awake, but didn’t open her eyes, willing to enjoy, if only for a few more minutes, the undivided attention of her men.
“Lunch’s almost ready.” Daniel whispered in her ear while a stray hand slipped under her t-shirt to splay on her abdomen.
Her stomach grumbled at the mention of food and she reluctantly propped herself up onto her elbows. The linen hammock swayed with the harsh movement and she planted a foot on the ground to steady her balance.
“What’s on the menu today?”
“Jack burned steaks.” Daniel snorted and got an elbow in the ribs and a slap on his butt in response.
“They’re *well-cooked*, not burned. Rare is…” he trailed off. Rare reminded them of staff blasts to chests, backs, limbs. Blood trickling out of half-burned flesh, pooling at the feet of the still shapes on the ground. The acre smell of rotting bodies.
Well-cooked was safer. Brown, thin, tender, like when they were children. And after all, they weren’t much more than children, at least physically
“Hey, I…” He shook his head. “C’mere, you two.” He leaned forward to kiss them both, and Sam felt strangely comforted when she tasted Daniel on Jack’s lips.
“And Dan here made Pasta Primavera.”
“Edible.” He pointed out.
Sam snorted and stretched, allowing herself a last yawn before surrendering to the two gorgeous boys next to her and to her desolately empty stomach.
“What’s your contribution to lunch, little lazy a…” Jack was cut off mid-phrase by a distinctively female hand slipping into the back pocket of his blue jeans and squeezing gently. He glanced sideways and saw Daniel’s Adam’s apple bob up and down for a split second as she did the same to him with her other hand.
“I bought ice cream.” She sniffed the air for signs of her meal.
“Aw, c’mon Sam. We risked our lives in the kitchen and you just *bought* ice cream? I thought we were going for the healthy and natural this week.”
And then she went all wide-eyed and a shy smile grazed her kiss-swollen lips. He hated the effect it had on him. That and the adorably mussed morning hair and her overall sleepy appearance.
When she was like that she could feed him rat poison cake and he wouldn’t deny her.
“Passing classes requires time, you know.” If that was possible, her eyes widened even more and one eyebrow raised slightly. “I got the one with the donut chunks in it.”
“Y’ know I love you, right?” Sam snorted at the way his eyes had lit up at the very mention of his favourite junk food.
She shot him a reproachful look and he shrugged. If he had to stuff himself with fat and cholesterol, he might as well do it in style.
He stopped mid-track and looked back at the desert street a few yards from them. Satisfied by the lack of overzealous social services employees or NID moles , he bent down and captured her lips in a gentle kiss. She responded willingly and tightened her hold on Daniel’s jeans when he tried to walk forward as the kiss deepened.
“There’s Italian coffee for you. Low fat.” She gasped breathlessly as his mouth descended on her neck, his body pushing up against her back, hips tight to her bottom.
“What would we do without you, Sam?” His hands gently trailed up her hips to her waist, where they encountered Jack’s. Fingers entwined and thumbs rubbed circles while keeping the girl firmly in place between them.
“I have a few ideas…” Jack trailed off and reached over Sam’s shoulder to kiss Daniel fully on the mouth.
Sam impatiently rolled her hips, making sure to press hard enough against their crotches.
“If I remember well, *I* was the one working late and who missed the movie and the food. Not to mention the after-movie.”
Daniel abruptly pulled back from Jack, sending him a glare that Sam missed.
“There was *no* after movie.” He said, frustration evident in his voice. “Our big man here was snoring like a lethargic bear two minutes into the first episode.”
“He was making *me* watch *Futurama*. And you know how I feel about Futurama.” He cocked his head to the side, silently pleading Sam to side with him.
“Futurama is at least as cool as the Simpsons are.” She shrugged and wriggled out of their combined embrace, the call of food too strong for her to ignore much longer.
The men watched her stride to the laid table in a trademark military walk, and smiled. Whoever talked so much about swaying hips and feline movements had underestimated the power of squared out shoulders and confident steps. Not to mention the ‘chest out’ thing.
“Just because you can identify with that bitch Leela.” Jack called after her. Chest out or not, he wasn’t going to let this one go. No one could compare the Simpsons with Futurama and get away with that. Not even her.
She spun around on her heels and her hands went immediately to her hips.
“Me, Leela? Me, Leela?” For a moment he thought her eyes were going to pop out of her head.
“And who would you be, Fry? Maybe I could order a pizza, since you burned the steaks.”
“I told you, the steaks weren’t…Hey! I don’t want to be Fry. If I have to be someone from that show, I want to be Bender.”
Out of the corner of his eye he saw Daniel pick up his pace and stand beside Sam.
“Nah, Reynolds is Bender. You’re stuck with Fry.” She smiled sheepishly. “Besides, you couldn’t sleep with me if you were Bender.”
Daniel sighed dejectedly. Why did she have to play along every time?
“Good point. And Spacemonkey here can be Zoidberg.”
Right. Because then they could gang up and make fun of him together.
“Definitely.”
“Sweet. Dan, can you do the sideways walk?”
He glared.
“That gives a whole new meaning to the word ‘interracial’.” He heard Sam snort and this time they both glared.
“Jack, about that medieval history paper due next week…” The speech sorted the desired effect. O’Neill scowled, the playful grin disappearing from his face.
“Oh, look. Lunch is ready.” He cut him off and tramped to the table, the other two teenagers in tow.
Sam turned to smile apologetically at Daniel and got a reproachful look in return. She drew her lower lip into her mouth and chewed on it until she heard him breath out a puff of air and an arm curled around her waist, pulling her gently to him.
“You know he’s gonna be grumpy all lunch, now, don’t you?” She leaned her head on his shoulder, enjoying the feel of the grass blades tickling her bare feet, and looked at Jack puttering around the barbeque.
“We’ll make it up to him later. And you know he does it specifically for this purpose.” Not that he was complaining either.
He released her and each took a seat as Jack dished out generous portions of pasta, making sure to produce more noise than necessary when he put the plate in front of Daniel, slamming it down in mock offence.
Sam lifted her eyes to the sky and touched Jack’s forearm as he sat down beside her.
“I got the double pack.”
“The one with the Simpsons action figures?” A grin found its way to his face.
“Yep. So you can play with those and leave my project alone.”
“By the way, how is it coming along?” Daniel asked through a mouthful of pasta.
“It’s coming. I guess I’ll have it ready by the end of the week so I can work on how to do the presentation on Monday. This high school thing really sucks.” After years spent working on alien technology -something that her other self still did – the most stimulating task she’d had so far was a model showing the process of orogenesis for her earth science class And she was behind in French. She definitely didn’t have a gift for French.
“If I just had some Naquadah I could just…”
“It’s a bloody high school assignment, Sam. And your IQ doubles that of all the kids in the class put together anyway. The whole school probably.” His eyebrows rode up and he leaned forward, head slightly tilted to the side.
She smiled and accepted his kiss, pulling away only when his hands sneaked under her shirt and started toying with the hem of her cotton bra.
“And yet I’m crap at French.”
Daniel immediately puffed out his chest. “You help me with calculations of limits, I help you with French verbs. Deal?”
“Deal.”
She looked down at her empty plate and then up at Jack with an expectant look.
“So, where’s my steak?”
***
Fin
Hey, I'd told ya it was crappy!!
