Title: And Nothing But
Category: Gen, Jack and Janet, humour
Rating/warnings, etc: PG, 450 words.
Author's Notes: For medie's "Because We're Awesome" drabble-a-thon. Prompt: Janet Fraiser & Jack O'Neill, honest truth
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She's halfway out the door before Jack realises what her casual statement means. She's gone to throw her bag in the back of Daniel's car.
He catches up with her as she's opening the trunk.
"Woah, Doc, hold on! Whaddya mean, 'Daniel's car'?"
She throws him a patented look.
"Daniel's," she enunciates carefully. "Car."
They've decided - by majority vote, Jack recalls bitterly - that it'll be too cramped in his truck with six people plus their bags. And that was before Cassie had turned up with what looked like all her worldly possessions. Daniel had offered to drive a second vehicle and Carter immediately opted to ride with him, claiming he'd need help with the map once they were off the Interstate. Jack hadn't really thought much of it, but now it occurs to him that his team might be trying to pull a fast one. It wouldn't be the first time. In the course of ten minutes, he's gone from five passengers down to one. And even Teal'c had hesitated minutely when asked about his travel plans. Jack thinks now that the odd flapping he'd caught Carter doing over his shoulder was less to do with the bee that he couldn't see and more to do with her attempt to communicate with Teal'c using hand signals.
Frasier slams the trunk shut and turns back to the house. Jack narrows his eyes, planting himself in her path. She pulls up short and tilts her head back a little, squinting in the late afternoon sun. Time for some answers.
"Why's everyone suddenly so interested in riding with Daniel? He got a stash of chocolate I don't know about?"
Fraiser blinks at him guilelessly. She starts to shrug.
"Ah!" he admonishes. "I know you know. And I know your not afraid to tell me the truth. It's one of the many things I like about you."
Yeah, flattery will get you everywhere, Jack.
Her eyebrow goes up (she must be taking lessons from Teal'c, he muses) and he can tell she's thinking the same thing.
"The honest truth?" she asks. Her tone is dry and a little sceptical, as if she isn't sure he can handle it.
He nods once, firmly.
She breathes in deeply and the expression on her face is the same one she wears when she's presenting some incontrovertible medical evidence to keep a superior officer in an infirmary bed.
"Doc, what's wrong with my truck?"
She sighs. "It smells like three kinds of ass, sir," she answers, then steps neatly around him and carries on toward the house.
Huh. He turns to object, loudly, and then stops. She is a doctor; he supposes she should know.