Daniel glared a moment at the phone, willing it to stop ringing. It was after midnight, and Daniel was starting to think about bed. He didn't want to be called to work for some crisis or other, which was undoubtedly what the caller wanted him to do. After another shrill demand, Daniel sighed and gave in. He picked up the receiver and grumbled, "Jackson."
"I can't believe they did that!"
Daniel immediately identified the voice on the other side as Jack. Daniel estimated it was around ten over in Washington. "Can't believe who did what?"
"CBS! Grissom and Sara! Together!" Jack cried, as if that would clear things up. Daniel raised his eyebrows in confusion, but since Jack couldn't see him, vocalized his bewilderment.
"What?" he asked.
"The season finale for CSI," Jack explained, somewhat more patiently. "I can't believe it! Grissom had more chemistry with the fucking doctor, for crying out loud!"
"Okay, Jack, explain this to me, and start with the fact that you watch CSI," Daniel said, rubbing his eyes tiredly.
"Oh. Well, Mitchell said it was a good show, believable characters, and all that. I was bored, so I tuned in. But, back to the matter at hand: Grissom and Sara got together," Jack announced for the second time.
"Who's Grissom, and who's Sara, and why is this so bad?"
"Gil Grissom is the night shift supervisor of the Las Vegas Crime Lab," Jack said impatiently. "Sara Sidle is his coworker—subordinate coworker. And I told you: no chemistry. Nada. And suddenly she's coming out of the bathroom with wet hair and a robe and he's lying on the bed and—and—no! Wrong!"
"Is Grissom straight?" Daniel asked reasonably.
"Yes," Jack replied. "Or, well, bi, at least. He has this hat that's—well, really gay. I mean, flamingly gay. I went online and fans call it the SHMAG."
Momentarily derailed from his planned interrogation of why Grissom and Sara getting together was bad, Daniel repeated, "The SHMAG?"
"The straw hat of middle-aged gayness."
Daniel blinked rapidly. "Oh. Um, okay. You went online?"
"I am somewhat computer-literate," Jack defended himself.
"Wouldn't know it with all the half-finished reports that ended up in my inbox," Daniel said wryly.
"That's not the point," Jack groused, and Daniel could hear the pout in his voice.
"All right," Daniel agreed, "this Grissom/Sara thing is. So, if Grissom prefers the fairer sex, why exactly can't he be in a relationship with Sara?"
"Did you miss the part about subordinate?" Jack asked.
"Never stopped you," Daniel pointed out, thinking with a smirk of just how little the part about subordinate had stopped Jack.
Jack coughed. "Yes, well, bad example. They just—no chemistry. We have chemistry. Grissom and Sara? No."
"Okay, look, Jack, they're fictional characters," Daniel said in his most placating voice. "This whole conversation is bordering on the inane. I'm kinda tired. Can you call me again tomorrow?"
"But I want to rant," Jack whined. Daniel rolled his eyes. If only those cadets could hear the mighty General O'Neill now.
"Fine. Rant. Just don't expect me to listen," Daniel said. Jack was silent. "I thought so. You can rant all you want at me tomorrow."
"Tomorrow, then," Jack conceded. "'Night, Danny."
"Good night, Jack."