Discipline
"Of all the lame assed, bone headed crap to pull, Sheppard…"
"Sir," John started.
"Shut up! I'm not done yet!" O'Neill stopped toe to toe with him.
John looked away. Antarctica was starting looking good… if he was lucky.
"You ever… EVER do something like this again, I'll lead the cheer squad at your court martial and personally drop kick your insubordinate ass out of the Air Force!" O'Neill pointed emphatically at him. "Have I made myself clear, Colonel?"
"Crystal, sir." John's gaze narrowed as O'Neill's expression abruptly turned wry. He'd read enough SGC mission reports to know a little about O'Neill. One side of John's mouth twitched and he took a chance. "Nice speech, sir."
O'Neill grinned smugly. "Thank you, Colonel. I've been practicing it all morning." He took a step closer to John, his face sobering. "Don't think I wouldn't do it though."
John dropped his head. "Yes, sir."
O'Neill stepped back. "Atlantis' command is yours." He walked a few steps away only to stop, turn and give a deadpan look to John. "Try not to screw it up. I don't want to have to come back here and fire you."
John smiled and nodded once. "Yes, sir."
Author's Notes: would've loved to see something like this instead of that scene with Weir, which didn't really accomplish much at all...