General George Hammond swelled with pride as his flagship team, SG–1 stalked confidently out of the Stargate. To a man, they were brilliant, highly skilled, physically impressive, and deadly — they were the best that Earth had to offer.
As Major Carter marched past, Hammond smiled and amended his previous thought. Technically speaking, not all of the team were actually male. He eyed Teal'c and further admitted that not all the team were even from Earth. Glancing up in time to see Dr. Daniel Jackson bounce happily out of the wormhole holding hands with a pretty alien lady, he was forced to admit — in his heart of hearts — that perhaps not all of the team could be considered especially deadly, either.
But then his eyes lit upon Colonel Jack O'Neill, and Hammond felt his smile return full force. Now there was a man's man! No detail escaped the Colonel's steely gaze as his surveyed the 'gate room. Lean and mean (to those that deserved it), the CO of SG–1 was a crafty tactician and charismatic leader. With O'Neill on their side, Earth would prevail against all their enemies.
After introductions were made, O'Neill took charge. "Dr. Jackson? Why don't you show Ke'ra and the others to the infirmary?"
"Of course, Jack." Daniel Jackson's hand slipped around the the shapely blonde's slim back as he guided her towards the exit, his eyes sparkling with interest.
Red alerts screamed in Hammond's brain and he scowled. Barely able to tear his eyes away from the disturbing scene, he snapped, "Jack! In my office, now!"
Shutting the doors to insure their privacy, Hammond motioned O'Neill to have a seat. Exasperated, he asked, "Jack, am I wrong, or do I sense that Dr. Jackson has a romantic interest in this Ke'ra?"
O'Neill's lips compressed infinitesimally. "I'm afraid you're right, General."
The General sighed heavily. "This is my worst nightmare. Whereas folks might think it's macho to go out in the universe and partake of the variety there, we really can't have our people leaving their DNA about — particularly from a man as brilliant as Dr. Jackson. We have to nip this in the bud, Jack."
O'Neill met the General's worried eyes and sat a little straighter. "I agree. What do you propose?"
The General looked down, embarrassed. "Propose…I hope it doesn't come to that but…." He cleared his throat and looked up at O'Neill. "Jack, it is apparent that Dr. Jackson takes his personal relationships seriously. While Sha're still lived, he never looked at another person. I believe we need to secure Dr. Jackson's affections to someone at this base. In fact, to be most effective, it needs to be someone on SG–1." The General shifted uncomfortably. "Jack, the circumstances demand an unusual solution. I can't and won't order you to do this, but, well…."
O'Neill, squared–jawed and stoic, said, "Tell me what needs to be done, George. You know you can depend on me."
Hammond's eyes brimmed with tears of gratitude. "Jack, I want you to engage Dr. Jackson in an intimate relationship. Hell, plainly speaking, you're going to need to fuck Jackson ten ways 'til Tuesday so he won't even think of looking at another alien. Can you do that, Jack? Can you keep that boy sated?"
"What about 'don't ask, don't tell?'"
"The President has given me complete autonomy within my command. He realizes that in dealing with interstellar issues, there can be no rules. I can promise you there will not be a problem."
O'Neill cocked his head to the side as he considered the problem. His look of cool speculation deepened until his dark eyes were smoldering and he licked his lips. "If I may?" he asked as he requisitioned pen and paper from the General's desk. Quickly, he began making notations as he muttered to himself. "…eight times four…hmmm…better make that a case," he said as he crossed out one item. A few minutes later, he finished and handed the paper to Hammond. "If you could have these supplies delivered to my house this afternoon, I'll get started on the problem tonight. Of course, I'll need Dr. Jackson's and my schedules cleared. Since this is Thursday, I think a four day weekend ought to be sufficient."
Hammond scanned the list. "A case each of baby oil, condoms, and flavored astroglide…a dozen sets of king sized, satin sheets…silk cording…. A king–sized fitted sheet made of gortex?"
"It'll protect the mattress. Have them put it on the bed under the satin sheets ASAP."
"Oh." Hammond made a note to the side and continued. "Six jars of Nutella?"
"That boy'll eat anything that's chocolate covered."
"Eh, right. Whipped cream…honey…maple syrup…four sets of handcuffs…a leather paddle…case of candles…fishnets and a teddy?! Jack, remember this is Dr. Jackson we're talking about!"
"It's been my experience that still waters run deep. I think I should be prepared for any eventuality, General."
"You're right, Jack. I'm sorry." He went back to the list. "Extra large plush towels…daily laundry service…dinner for two delivered at precisely at 1800 from the following restaurants…." He looked puzzled. "Won't you need breakfast and lunch delivered, too?"
"That won't be necessary. Our caloric needs will be met from other sources."
A pink flush crept up the General's face and he tugged at his suddenly constricting collar. "I, ah, see your point. Well, I see nothing on this list that will constitute a problem. We'll get right on it."
"Excellent. I'll go fetch Daniel for an early dinner. We'll be back at my place no sooner than 1730, if you can make sure all those supplies will be delivered and put away by then."
"Consider it done. Good luck and dismissed, Colonel. I hope you won't mind if I don't stand up," he said, shifting uncomfortably.
"I understand, General." Standing up, O'Neill saluted sharply and left.
As O'Neill entered the infirmary, Janet Fraiser waved him over to her office. Shutting the door behind him, she pressed a bottle of pills into his hand.
O'Neill's eyebrows raised. "Viagra, Janet?"
She met his eyes determinedly. "Colonel, the General phoned and explained your situation. I want to assure you that you'll have my complete cooperation and discretion in this."
He gave the bottle a little shake and smiled at her. "And this?"
"Jack, you must succeed. Not only can I not stand to think of Daniel as being easy prey to any exotic come–on, I really don't have the resources for the increase in infirmary stays this could represent. Plus, I'd have to either begin studying STDs or bring in a specialist. Trust me, Colonel; this will work so much better." She rested a hand on his shoulder. "I can't tell you how impressed I am that you've consented to do this; you are such a brave man," she sniffed.
O'Neill grinned rakishly and took her hand in his. Janet felt her heart faltered with a few missed beats, but she didn't care; to be the focus of those amazing eyes was worth any risk. Suddenly, she was quite envious of Dr. Jackson and the intense behavior modification he was about to be subjected to.
He pocketed the pills. "I don't think we'll need them, but it'll be good to have them on standby. Thank you, Janet."
Suddenly all business, he strode from the room on powerful thighs. "Daniel? Front and center," he ordered.
The archeologist left Ke'ra's side and hurried over. "Yes, Jack? What's up?" he asked anxiously, his blue eyes wide and guileless.
"I'm glad you asked, Daniel, because something has come up and it needs your attention, ASAP. Hammond as cleared your schedule so you're to come with me immediately."
"Oh." Daniel's mouth lingered over the word, his lips forming a perfect circle.
Suddenly, O'Neill had never been as eager to complete a mission.
His forehead wrinkling slightly with a new thought, Daniel started to turn back at Ke'ra.
Hammond and Janet were right; Daniel was in grave danger here! "Now, Daniel," he ordered sternly.
"But what about—"
"The Vyan's problems are medical, Daniel. If I'm not mistaken, none of your many degrees are in medicine, are they?"
Daniel frowned in concentration, his unfocused gaze staring at a corner in the ceiling. "I, um, I don't think so," he said uncertainly.
O'Neill stared at the comely young man and felt his heart soften. "Daniel, get your cute butt over here now," he growled.
The archeologist's eyes went impossibly wide and his jaw dropped. He staggered towards O'Neill, blinking fast. "Wh—wha—what did you say?"
O'Neill sauntered closer until he was standing in front of Daniel. Placing his hands on Daniel's shoulders, he looked deep into his eyes. "Whad'ya say we blow this joint for some R&R?" he said, feeling fine shivers race though the slender body. Leaning in close, he spoke softly into Daniel's ear while his hands wandered down the firm, warm flesh. "I've some ideas for a new type of gate travel…it involves entering wormholes…uncovering new cultures…thrusting out to fill the gaps of our knowledge…. Basically going where no man has gone before," he whispered, letting one hand flex, squeezing the tight mound of Daniel's ass.
Daniel gasped and arched uncontrollably in O'Neill's strong arms.
O'Neill shuddered, swallowing hard. "Daniel, if we don't leave here immediately…." O'Neill's voice was husky with want.
"I know, Jack. We're going, we're going!"
"Then move it. I've got your six, Danny."
Daniel looked up at O'Neill through thick eyelashes. "You can have my six any time you want, Colonel," he whispered, demurely.
Janet cleared her throat into the sudden stillness that blanketed the room. "Gentlemen, I've got supplies of heat–sensitive drugs in here. I suggest you leave before the whole infirmary goes up in flames!"
O'Neill tore his eyes away from his nubile companion and straightened his clothes. "Of course, Janet. My apologies."
She grinned. "Just move it along, boys, or I'll start to sell tickets."
O'Neill grinned back. "That won't be necessary." He held his hand out to the young scholar. "Come with me, Daniel. The plans I have for you are guaranteed to curl your toes."
Daniel looked up adoringly as he slipped his hand into Jack's grasp. "Then let's get started." He started for the door, eagerly pulling Jack behind him.
Janet groaned as she watched the two, trim behinds disappear out of the door. As painful as it was to be in the presence of such manly perfection, it was worse when they left. "Oh, momma!" she moaned. "Whip me, beat me, make me write bad checks!"