A/Note: A diddy, because I like to play with you all :) Enjoy!
~ Specifics ~
Some things are no longer regarded as sacred. The phone was ringing. On a Sunday. At a quarter to seven. Who the hell was coherent at this hour? During a very nice Carter dream too. 'Unfair' was an understatement.
Jack didn't even open his eyes as he reluctantly pulled an arm out of the blankets and slapped a hand on the singing cordless phone.
"O'Neill." He wasn't sure if it came across as more than an unamused grumble. Walter Harriman. The little Radar of the SGC. And of course, he was asking for General O'Neill.
"I'm retired, Harriman," Jack groused into his pillow. He's retired before and he's sure the Air Force will try and coax him back into a uniform again.
The Chief apologised and rephrased his request, using the correct title.
"That's better." Jack awkwardly removed the phone from his ear and dropped it behind him. "It's for you."
A slender, diamond and Sapphire encrusted hand reached out to grab the device, soon followed by a slightly dishevelled, blonde head.
"Other O'Neill..." Sam greeted her technician sleepily.
When asking for 'General O'Neill', a person must be very specific about which one.
~ SJ ~
That's all. It's been floating around my head for months, followed by a range of story ideas, but I thought, nah, it's fine by itself. Friendly feedback and witty remarks are damn welcome. It's a writer's only form of pay.