Lieutenant Yeline Gonzalez walked into the locker room, dirty and exhausted. She sat down hard on the bench in front of her locker and sighed. She'd just spent the past 48 hours doing recon on some god-forsaken, mud-encrusted, slime hole of a planet. Her team, SG6, had brought back some interesting information about the planet and its viability as a possible replacement for the Gamma site, and she was so grateful to be home.
She shrugged off her jacket and over-shirt and got up to get a HAZMAT containment bag. With all the things the various SG teams had brought back with them over the past few years, it was standard procedure – and nice since it meant that Yeline didn't have to wash the mud off that uniform herself. She stuffed her shirt and jacket into the bag, then sat down to take off her boots. An ecstatic sigh escaped her as her feet felt freedom for the first time in two days.
She took off her socks and massaged her feet and was really enjoying the feeling of bare feet when she suddenly saw bare toes in her peripheral vision. Her eyes moved upward to decidedly male calves, which disappeared under a white towel. She continued upward to where the towel ended at a muscular abdomen, then a deliciously shaped chest and finally to the body's face.
Yeline felt as if she'd been hit with the business end of a Jaffa staff weapon. She couldn't breathe. Coherent thought escaped her. She just sat, with her foot in her hand and stared.
Dr. Daniel Jackson, archaeologist, linguist and member of SG1, stood before her, at the door between the locker room and the showers--wearing nothing but a towel.
Yeline's eyes moved back down toward the towel. She swallowed and forced herself to look up again…all the way up to his face.
His eyes squinted at her under damp hair that was sticking up in all directions from a quick encounter with a towel upon exiting the shower.
"Uh, hello," he said, looking around the locker room to see if anyone else was there.
Yeline swallowed hard. She cleared her throat and forced herself to start breathing again. "Dr. Jackson." she gulped. "I-I, uh, didn't know…there was no sign on the door," referring to the sign that let people know if members of the opposite sex were in the locker room that was shared by all of the SGC personnel, male and female.
He looked toward the door and sighed, making that magnificent chest move.
Yeline wished he wouldn't do that…and then wished he would do it again. Down girl.
"I must have forgotten to put the sign on the door. Sorry."
She forced herself to look down at her feet. "Oh, it's okay." Believe me, it's okay! "I can wait in the hall 'til you're done." She got up, barefoot and walked out to the hall. The air in the hallway seemed a damned-sight colder than the air in the locker room. That's when it hit her. If she hadn't taken her time taking off her boots and massaging her feet, she may have actually walked into the shower before he'd donned the towel.
Jack O'Neill came off the elevator on Level 25 on his way to his quarters. He stopped his whistling and frowned as he approached the locker room. When he reached the person standing just to the right of the locker room door, he paused. After a minute, he could stand it no longer and just had to ask:
"Lieutenant? Why are you hitting your head against the wall?"