Jack O'Neill glared at his team while they dialed home.
This mission had been a total screw up from the get-go. They'd come through the gate. They'd marched along the rocky and muddy surface of P2H-566 near that same gate. Then he'd tripped, fallen in the mud and probably broken his ankle, by the feel of it. Carter had agreed, and the continued looks of concern and amused pity on Daniel and Teal'c's faces had Jack tempted to swear in ten different languages. Of course, he only actually *knew* two.
The mission was off, obviously, and now they were heading home. He was so not a happy camper. O'Neill, Tau'ri warrior of Earth, who had fought and defeated the Goa'uld, had tripped and broken his freaking ankle. He could already imagine the gossip that would go around the SGC once everyone found out.
Daniel was smirking, and although Teal'c basically remained stoic while assisting him to the open wormhole, Jack was sure the Jaffa now wore a hint of a smile.
Great. Just great. He was suffering, and his team, for whom he'd do anything, thought it was funny. Maybe he should stop complaining under his breath and give more voice to his pain. He wasn't sure, though, what was worse- the pain in his ankle or the humiliation of the stupid accident that'd gotten him there in the first place. Or maybe it was the fact that he smelled like rotten eggs.
No time to think it over. They were stepping into the gate now, and their solid footing gave way to the familiar sensation of flying through space at top speed.
"Colonel, would you please be still!"
Fraiser sounded upset. Could he help it that the drying mud was itching, and he needed to scratch in the worst way?
"Are you almost done, Doc?"
"You want me to plaster your big mouth as well as your ankle, Colonel?"
Now she was threatening him. Great! The painkiller she had given him after Teal'c had helped him to the infirmary had taken away the pain, but the drying mud wouldn't go away so easily. Damn, now his neck was itching. He scratched at it with one finger.
He needed a shower. Fast. He knew for sure his team members were hitting the showers right about now. Envy rose, fast and furious, as he rubbed at a particularly irritated section of his chest.
"Done." Fraiser said at last, as she helped him up. "No walking on that leg for a while, Colonel. You'll get a walking cast in a couple of weeks. Until then, I'll get you some crutches to use."
She was about to leave, but like the mind reader she always seemed to be, she turned to him again. "And no showering with that cast on. You can wash up in a minute with a basin of water. I'll have one of the nurses bring you one, but that's it."
Oh, no. It wasn't fair. He smelled worse then a pigsty. Just washing up wouldn't help. He needed to stand under a warm shower. His muscles were already complaining. So, maybe the basin of water would take the smell away, but what about his sore muscles?
"Oh, come on, Doc." He put on his best pleading face, meanwhile scratching his chin, but the petite doctor wasn't impressed at all.
"I could of course ask the nurses to give you a sponge bath, Colonel. You do like them, don't you?" She smiled sweetly at his horrified expression, and left to get the crutches.
The next few weeks were going to be interminable. He just knew it.
Jack was clean now, and Fraiser had made sure he had fresh clothes, but he was bruised up, and he wanted, no, *needed* that warm shower. Fraiser had decided he could just as well go home and sleep it off. Jack was still feeling sorry for himself. He'd been complaining loudly, and scaring everybody out of the infirmary, for the last few hours.
Daniel, of course, hadn't been so easily scared off. Stubborn guy! "Want me to give you a ride home, Jack?" Daniel grinned at him, obviously trying to stop from really laughing.
Jack was a bit suspicious of Daniel's smile. "You would do that for an old cranky, sore Air Force colonel?"
Daniel coughed and looked at an imaginary spot on the floor. "Um… would you believe we drew straws? And I lost?"
"Why in the world would you draw straws?" Why did this sound so familiar to him?
"Teal'c and Sam didn't really want to take you home the way you are…"
"The way I am? What's that supposed to mean?"
"More than a little pissed off?" Daniel suggested.
Oh well, wasn't that nice. Of course he had scared them out of the infirmary just a couple of hours before by threatening to hug Sam, and share his special fragrance with her. And Teal'c had just backed away from him, trying not to make a face.
He knew that Daniel had a great bathtub. Of course he had one himself, but Daniel's was better since it had whirlpool jets in it. He had told Jack about it when he'd had it installed just a couple of weeks before. Jets in the bathtub had always been on top of Daniel's wish list. Wonderful for relaxing after stressful missions, he'd always said, and Jack agreed. Maybe, just maybe, he could convince his friend to let him use it? It would be great for his muscles. Good plan, Jack. Let Daniel take you home. To HIS home.
"So," Jack said enthusiastically, "when are we leaving?"
Daniel drove them out of the mountain and into town. The sky was blue and the weather nice and warm, but Jack's muscles were cramped up. He wondered if Daniel could drive a little faster.
"I wanna go to your place, Daniel," Jack announced.
"What… Why?"
"I feel like…" Jack knew he was whining. "Like…"
"Like someone who tripped and fell in the stinky mud of P2H-566?" Daniel offered, grinning.
"Yeah, so…" Maybe Daniel would get the hint.
"So, what?"
"You have that wonderful new bathtub."
"And?"
God, for someone with a double PhD, Daniel could be so dense at times. Maybe his friend was just teasing him, though.
"I need a bath, Daniel!" He decided to press it a little. After all, Daniel's tub had *jets*.
"You're not allowed, Jack! You heard Janet," the younger man emphasized. "Besides, don't you have your own bathtub?"
"Not allowed to shower, no. But I'm sure your tub is better for my sore muscles. I could use the massage from the jets," he admitted, blinking in what he hoped was an endearing, innocent way. "You told me last week it does miracles for aches and pains, right?"
"You don't want your cast to get wet," his friend reminded him, sounding like a teacher explaining something to a young child.
"I know that…So, I'll just hang my leg outside the tub. I can cover it with plastic."
"But…"
"Daniel. Please." He was whining and begging, and he knew it and didn't care. "Please!" He repeated.
Daniel just grinned at him, and turned the car in the direction of his own place.
Thank God he had stopped arguing. Jack just wanted to get clean and comfortable, and forget the botched up mission.
By the time they'd reached Daniel's front door, Jack's ankle was feeling like it had an anchor tied to it. The crutches were hurting his arms, and sweat was running down his back. He let out a sigh as Daniel closed the door behind them.
Daniel's house was still as cramped with artefacts and other stuff Jack couldn't identify as the last time he'd been there. It'd been a while, since Daniel normally came over to Jack's whenever they needed to talk about a mission, or when they got together for pizza and a game on TV.
"Coffee, Jack?" Daniel took both their jackets, throwing them over a stand that looked like a statue of a cat with horns. Jack did a double take at it. Amazing stuff.
"I'd like to have my bath first, if you don't mind." His muscles still screamed at him every time he moved, and his ankle hurt like a bitch.
"Okay, I'll get you some towels."
"Great."
He maneuvered into the kitchen with his crutches. He really didn't want his cast to get wet, or he knew Fraiser would have his head. Maybe a big plastic bag would help prevent that. But where to find a bag like that in Daniel's crowded kitchen? He started opening some drawers and cupboards, finally finding a box of black garbage bags under the sink. He took two for good measure, thinking that a double application might help.
Returning to the living room with the bags was a task all its own. He was teetering on the unfamiliar crutches as Daniel reappeared with his towels.
Daniel's steadying hand gripped his elbow. "Want me to help you get into the tub, Jack?"
He saw Daniel looking at him. Not smiling this time. The man was serious. Did he look like a three-year-old who needed his help? Maybe he was a little rusty, with bad knees, sore muscles and a broken ankle, but he sure as hell could fill a bathtub and get into it all by himself.
"I know how to take a bath, Daniel."
Daniel's hands were waving around. "Just thought I should help, with that ankle and all." Daniel may have grinned at him earlier, but he seemed genuinely concerned now.
"I'll be fine, Daniel." He gave the other man a pat on the shoulder and smiled. "Thanks, anyway."
He quickly took the towels Daniel offered him, tucked them under one arm as best he could, and headed for the bathroom, closing the door. Fumbling around with the lock, he found out it was broken. Turning, the door knob forgotten, he grinned when he saw the large bathtub. This was going to do him a lot of good, broken lock or not.
Crap! This was not the way Jack had wanted it to be. The warm whirlpool bath had been wonderful, and he was relaxed. Well, he had been, until now. The water had been getting colder and colder until he'd finally gotten downright chilly, and he'd decided it was time to get out. Getting out ended up being easier said than done, with one leg in a cast propped up on the edge. The tub was almost empty now, but it was still wet and had turned out to be very slick.
Double crap! This was so not good. He could just see it now, providing fodder for another round of gossip at the SGC. Daniel would surely have no problem telling this amusing story to Sam, and she would, no doubt, tell Janet and before you knew it everyone would know that Colonel Jack O'Neill had been stuck in the tub in Dr. Jackson's house. No way! It was the last thing he needed. SG-3 alone would have the rumor mill spinning out story after story about him clinging to Daniel, all wet and cold, as he struggled out of the tub. No. No, no, no.
He knew Daniel was nearby, probably in the living room drinking coffee and reading one of his huge, boring books. The more Jack thought about it, the more he wondered if maybe he should just suck it up and call for help? He was freezing and cramping up again. Then he started imagining the smile on Daniel's face, the bright blue eyes taking in everything in the bathroom up to a naked and even worse, a struggling, helpless O'Neill trying to get out of the tub.
Shit, this was more than not good. This was bad and getting worse by the minute. It was also extremely frustrating, and going on embarrassing.
He just needed to push himself up… Okay. One more try. Maybe he needed to push just a little harder.
He slipped, landing with a loud thunk back in the bottom of the tub. The cast added that little extra to the noise, probably making sure Daniel had heard him. Damn. He'd not only hurt his ankle in the process, by the feel of it, he would also have some major bruising on his butt. It just wasn't turning out to be his day.
"Jack, are you all right?" The voice from the living room sounded worried.
Jack glared at the door. *Don't come in, Daniel, don't even think about it.* "I'm fine. Just dropped the bar of soap."
"Want me to come in and get it for ya?"
"NO!" Boy, that sounded harsher then he'd intended. What was wrong with him? It wasn't as if Daniel hadn't seen him naked before. The SGC had communal showers. But this time he was stuck, helpless and getting angrier with himself by the minute.
"I've got it…"
"Are you sure?" Daniel's voice sounded nearby.
Was the man teasing him? It sounded a lot like he knew that Jack hadn't dropped the bar of soap. Was he about to barge in? Couldn't have that. "Yes."
"Oh, okay."
How long had he been struggling to get out? Pushing himself up hadn't worked. Trying to turn around onto his knees hadn't worked. He was getting really cold now and in need of some warm clothes and hot coffee. He couldn't even reach the big fluffy towel lying on the sink on the other side of the room. Daniel would still be reading, of course, maybe even dozing off by now. He'd heard no more concerned calls out of the living room so there was nothing for it.
Finally he decided he'd have to ask for help. He was stubborn, but not completely stupid. He had no choice. He needed to set his pride aside and maybe turn it into a joke. He'd thought about bribing Daniel into not telling.
"Daniel?"
There was no reply. Oh, for crying out loud. He wanted, no, needed to get out!
"DANIEL?" That should wake him up or get him out of that book.
Nothing.
"DANIEL!"
Still nothing. What the hell? Maybe Daniel wasn't even there anymore? But he would have told him if he'd left, wouldn't he?
"DANIEL!" He hollered at the top of his voice.
"Jack?" A voice called out to him. From far away. He heard the front door close with a bang. Hurried footsteps came up to the bathroom door. "Jack?"
"Daniel, can you help me?" Jack asked in a small voice.
It was quiet for a minute. "Help you?" Daniel must have been out or asleep or something because he sounded confused. "God, are you still in the tub?"
"Yes!"
"Can I come in?"
"Yeah. Get your ass in here and help me!" *Of course! * Hadn't he said so already?
The door opened and a concerned looking Daniel stared at him. "Do you realize how long you've been in here?"
"No." *And I really don't care. I just want to get out and stop staring at me like that.* He wanted to say it but was stopped by the worried expression in Daniel's eyes. "What?"
"I just checked my watch, Jack," Daniel coughed, looking guilty about something. "I went out to get some groceries, didn't want to tell you because I thought maybe you might be sleeping in here. And you were kind of upset before, so…" Now he did look more than a little guilty. "I, um… let you sit in the tub for over two hours."
Two hours? He had been trying to get out for more than an hour and a half? But what was Daniel telling him? That he felt guilty because of it?
Hey, it had been his idea to take a bath and his fault that he hadn't called for help sooner. Daniel had just wanted to give him some peace and quiet, avoiding his bad mood, and had left to get some stuff. It was no big deal. Just embarrassing.
"I should have called for help sooner, Daniel." Now it was his turn to cough. "But I was embarrassed that I couldn't get out by myself." *Well, that wasn't so hard, now, was it?*
The expression in Daniel's eyes suddenly started to change from concern to amusement, in just a couple of seconds.
"Don't you dare laugh at me, Doctor Jackson. Gimme a hand here! I'm freezing!"
"Who's laughing?"
Jack could see Daniel bite back a grin, and he tried not to grumble too much when his friend leaned in to help him get up and out of the tub.
Grabbing the towel Daniel threw him, Jack could hear his friend stifle a laugh. Maybe this would be a good time to throw in a bribe or two, stem the tide of office gossip right then. Chocolate, coffee, more time in alien temples?
Before he could say anything, Daniel turned and smiled at him. "Wait till Sam and Teal'c hear about this." He laughed. "Colonel O'Neill himself, stuck in a little ol' bathtub!"
"Daniel."
"Couldn't get out for two hours." Jack was horrified to see Daniel actually rub his hands together, making plans to snitch.
"Daniel, don't you dare!"
"Want me to put a sign near the tub? 'Slippery when wet?'" Daniel chortled.
"Daniel!"
"Grey, cold and naked."
Daniel darted out of the bathroom just before Jack could grab him by the shirt. This had been just one of those days, he decided again. He could still hear Daniel's laughter out in the living room.
"Jackson, get back here!" This was going to take a lot of bribing… A lot.
The End