Title: Tiny Dancer

Author: Jeanine

Category: Jack/Janet, fluff

Rating: PG

Email: jeanine@iol.ie

Archive: My own, The Band Gazebo (helsinkibaby.topcities.com)

Feedback: Always welcome.
Disclaimer: Stargate Sg-1 and its characters are the property of Stargate (II) Productions, Showtime/Viacom, MGM/UA, Double Secret Productions, and Gekko Productions. This story is for entertainment purposes only and no money exchanged hands. No copyright infringement is intended.
Spoilers: None specific.
Summary: Janet helps Jack out with a problem he has…

Author's Notes: I have never in my life written Jack/Janet, and never planned to, until Jayne held a sequel to one of her fics ransom if I'd write one for her. She said that it would be her Christmas present, so I'm just getting it in under the wire here - hope you like it!

***

Let me just state this for the record - I am not averse to having a quiet night at home. Not even when it's Friday night. I am a serenely independent woman, fully qualified doctor in the United States Air Force, I have my own house, I am raising my daughter quite adequately on my own, I have good friends and I love my work. Right now, I have a glass of wine in one hand, I am curled up on my couch with the latest Diana Gabaldon book on my lap. Music from one of my favourite compact discs is floating around the room, and there's ice cream in the freezer, which I'm trying very hard not to dip in to.

What more could a woman need for a perfect Friday night?

I refuse to worry about the fact that my sixteen-year-old daughter has a more active social life than I do.

After all, it's not the first time that I've stayed home while Cassie's gone out for the evening with friends from school. It's never been a problem before.

Then again, the last two weeks have been different to anything that's happened before. And if I'm completely honest with myself, I know that that's really what has me so rattled.

***

It all started off innocently enough. Cassie came home from school, threw her bag on the floor beside the door, and got yelled at, by me, to pick it up. Nothing unusual there. Then she threw her jacket on the couch, and got yelled at by me to hang it up. Not that she did though, instead choosing to go to the kitchen and make herself a triple decker sandwich, ignoring my admonition that I had a casserole in the oven for dinner and that she'd better eat it.

Like I said, it was an ordinary day.

What was unusual was that Cassie was almost communicative over dinner, telling me about her day at school, letting me know what was going on with her. I was surprised, because after all, she's a typical teenager, never, or rarely, letting her mother know what's on her mind. I knew that if she was letting me into her life on that particular occasion, it was because she either had something that she wanted my opinion about, or because she needed money for something.

Towards the end of dinner, she finally brought up what was troubling her.

"So…" she began, her voice trailing off. I just waited, lifting an eyebrow, knowing that she'd continue in her own time. "There's a dance on at school in a couple of weeks." That was all she said, but it had me nodding, sure I knew where this was going.

"That's nice honey," I told her. "You want to go shopping for a dress at the weekend?" Read, did she want money to go shopping with her friends, because there's no way in hell that she'd go shopping with me.

I was sure that that was what she was working up to. Little did I know though. "That'd be great Mom," she said. "Are you free on Saturday?"

I think I just about managed to keep the shock off my face. With what I see at work every day, it takes a lot to surprise me, but this managed it. "Sure," I said, but something, some maternal instinct, told me that she wasn't finished yet.

"The thing is," she continued slowly after a few moments. "It's not just any dance."

"Really?" I prompted, when she got tongue tied again.

She took a deep breath, then let it out in a rush. "It's the Father Daughter dance," she said quickly, so quickly that it took me a second to process what she was saying, then another, longer, second to see what the problem was.

"Oh."

"Yeah. And I was going to give it a miss, because you know," she shrugged. "And besides, none of my friends were going, because who wants to hang out with their father anyway, but now, all of them are going, and they want me to come along as well. So I was kinda thinking…do you think Jack would go with me?"

I took a sip of my water, considering the idea, once more not letting any emotion show on my face. "I think he'd love to," I told her, though in reality, I had no idea how Jack would react to an idea like that. I did know that he adored Cassie, that he'd do anything for her. I just wasn't sure that anything would extend to spending an evening in a high school gym with hundreds of teenagers, but a nice smile from Cassie has always gone a long way to getting around him. "It can't hurt to ask, right?"

She gave me a beaming smile in response, and I took another sip of my water, mentally cataloguing the ways in which I could hurt Jack if he said no to her, wondering if I could possibly get to him before she did.

***

As it happened, I didn't need to get to Jack at all. Cassie called him the next morning, probably while he was still half-asleep, and he agreed to take her to the Father-Daughter dance without a single comment or smart remark. It's hard to say who was more surprised over the latter event, Cassie, or me when she told me about it.

I didn't say anything to Jack about it when I saw him at the base later on that day, nor did he bring it up with me. It's long been one of our hard and fast rules - beyond the general chit-chat and exchange about what's going on with Cassie, we never mention details at work. Most people know that Cassie and Sam have a very close relationship, that we almost share the mothering between us. They don't know that Jack is the closest thing that Cassie has to a father, and would be very surprised to find out just how much time he spends with her. That's why I wasn't really surprised when she suggested that Jack take her to the dance; I was just surprised that he agreed to it so readily.

I was even more surprised when, on the Friday night after she asked him, my doorbell rang, and he was standing there. That time, I didn't even bother to keep the surprise off my face, because Jack never comes by the house without calling first. Nor does he ever come by on a Friday night, because he knows full well that the chances of catching Cassie in the house on a Friday night are slim to none, unless she's grounded, and then she's not available for visitors anyway.

I pointed that out to him, and he just nodded, hands in his jacket pockets, looking down nervously, anywhere, in fact, but at me. "I, um…I know that… Janet…" He spoke slowly, haltingly, as if he wasn't sure of what he was here to say, and I was more than a little concerned, because I'd never seen him that all at sea before. "It's…it's actually you … that I wanted to talk to."

I nodded, stepping back, leaving the way clear for him to enter. "Come in," I said, following him into the living room, sitting down on the couch, expecting him to drop into the comfortable armchair with the good view of the television as he normally did.

He didn't. Instead, he paced up and down the length of the room restlessly as I stared up at him. "Are you ok?" I finally asked him, and he stopped pacing, looking right at me, eyes wide, and, dare I say it, more than a little panicked.

"Fine," he said innocently, in such a way that made it clear that he wasn't fine at all.

"Are you sure?" I asked, narrowing my eyes.

"Sure. I'm sure," he replied, continuing his pacing again. "Except for…I think that…what I mean to say is…"

"Jack?"

My interruption made him stop again, and this time, he did sit down in his usual chair. "I think," he said slowly, hands steepled in front of his face. "That I might have a problem."

I frowned, leaning forward on the couch, removing my Janet hat and putting on my Doctor Fraiser hat instead, all professional now. "What kind of problem?" I asked.

He took a deep breath, and his gaze slid away from me, focussing on a corner of the room. "You know that Cassie asked me to this Father-Daughter dance thing…"

I will admit that his phraseology had the Doctor Fraiser hat slipping, to be replaced by the angry protective mother hat. "Don't tell me you can't go," I said, imagining how crushed Cassie would be if he went back on his word.

"No, no, nothing like that," he said hurriedly, holding up his hands and looking at me for a second. "It's something else."

I was all Doctor again after that. "Is it a medical problem?" I asked gently, trying to make him comfortable.

"Something like that," he mumbled, looking down at the floor. "It's my feet."

He was mumbling so much that I wasn't sure that's what he really said, and I looked down, not able to see anything wrong with them, though I couldn't be sure, encased as they were in a big pair of black boots. Had I heard him wrong? "What's wrong with them?" was my next logical question.

His next sentence was even more of a mumble than the previous. "I kinda…sorta…have two left ones."

I blinked, sure that I'd heard him wrong.

Then I burst out laughing.

He, on the other hand, did not look amused, anything but in fact, and that only made me laugh harder. I laughed so hard in fact, that tears came to my ears, and I only managed to sober up right around the time that steam looked to be about to emerge from his ears. "Look, this was a mistake," he muttered, throwing his hands to heaven and beginning to walk towards the door.

I jumped up quickly, following him and grabbing him at the elbow, halting his progress. "Jack, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," I told him, trying to get myself back under control again. "I shouldn't have reacted like that…" A residual giggle bubbled up, and I clamped down on it hard, taking a deep breath. "You can't dance, correct?" I had my best doctor face on again; it was the only way that I could get through this.

He nodded, sighing. "Sara used to joke that she needed steel toed boots for the first dance at our wedding. Thing is, she wasn't joking."

I bit down on the inside of my cheek. "And you want me to help you?" I asked, just to make sure.

"Look Janet, I wasn't even going to say yes to this," he admitted. "But the kid had her heart set on it. I couldn't say no to her." I resisted with difficulty the temptation to roll my eyes. While I have no problem saying no to Cassandra, she has Jack wrapped around her little finger, and it's only the fact that he's terrified of me that stops him going to all kinds of extremes. "You want her to be mortally embarrassed in front of all her friends?"

I didn't have to think about it for long. Aside from the fact that I'd be the one who'd have to live with the mortally embarrassed teenager, I was also thinking of the pair of shoes that Cassie had, that very day, taken me to the mall and inveigled me to buy for her. They cost far too much money to have them trampled by the Colonel. "OK," I told him, affecting a sigh, piling on the guilt then for greater rewards later on. "I'll help you."

***

At the time, I thought to myself, how hard could it be?

After all, this is a man who went through Air Force training, he was in Black Ops for years; these are the kind of things that necessitate a lightness of foot. I told myself that he was exaggerating, as he is wont to do, and that there's no way he could have been as bad as he was telling me.

Five minutes into our first lesson, when he'd already stepped on my toes seven times, I changed my mind. I actually considered breaking off the lessons right then and there, but the apologetic, vaguely begging look on his face won me over, as did the thought of the look that would come to Cassie's face if Jack backed out on her. So I gritted my teeth, swallowed my pride, not to mention my shouts, and kept right on dancing, reflecting as I soaked my feet after every lesson that there must be easier ways to make my daughter happy.

Short of marrying a modern-day Fred Astaire in short order, I couldn't think of one though, so I continued with the dancing lessons, spending large amounts of time each night soaking my aching feet, wondering what in the world I'd done to deserve this kind of torture. We quickly fell into a pattern - he would never come to my house, I'd always go to his, just in case Cassie should be home and find out his deep dark secret. I'd get there bang on time, and we'd spend the first few minutes exchanging banter over our respective days, while I worked up the courage to actually commence the dancing. Then we'd dance until we were exhausted, or until my feet couldn't take it anymore, and that was when Jack would disappear into the kitchen, emerging with steaming cups of coffee and some gooey confection that he'd picked up on his way home; chocolate to soothe my aches and pains he told me once.

But something funny happened between the first lesson and tonight, when he arrived at our door, looking all dapper in his suit and tie, a corsage for Cassie in one hand, and flowers for me in the other.

For starters, he learned how to dance. By last night, he was whirling me all around his living room, and I've no fears that he'll embarrass either Cassie or himself tonight.

For another thing, we spent more time together and alone than we ever have in all the years that we've been working together, and I learned things about him that I never knew before. I also realised a few things about myself that I wasn't sure of, some things that I can never admit to anyone.

Such as that it may be possible that I've developed something in the line of romantic feelings for our good Colonel.

Oh, I'm not blind, nor have I been for the last number of years. I'm well aware of quite how attractive he is, well aware of how many of the female personnel on the base would like to get to know him a little better. But I never thought of him like that. I've spent too long building up my career, both as a doctor and in the Air Force, to potentially jeopardise it by getting involved in a base romance. Plus, my marriage ended badly enough to make me gun-shy about relationships in general, and I'm not sure I want to go down that route again. For years I've told myself that I have my job, I have Cassie, I have good friends. I always thought that that would be enough for me.

And now I find myself sitting here, alone, on a Friday night, and I'm wishing that I had something more.

Specifically, someone more.

My reverie is interrupted when I hear noises at the front door, and the unmistakable sound of a key in the lock. My eyes fly in surprise to the clock on the mantel, not having realised how much time had passed during my musings. Cassie's higher voice mingles with Jack's lower one, and judging from the girlish, breathless laughter that I hear, a good time was had by all. That's borne out by the smiles on both faces when they enter the living room, and I stand to greet them, laying my book aside. "Good time?" I ask, smiling brightly, and I get two enthusiastic nods in return.

"It was great Mom," Cassie tells me enthusiastically, settling herself on the arm of a chair, pulling off her shoes. "And you should have seen Jack; he's a great dancer."

"Really?" I ask, raising my eyebrow pointedly at him, safe in the knowledge that Cassie's not looking.

"It's a gift," he says, face completely serious, waving a hand dismissively. If I didn't know him as well as I do, I'd probably miss the twinkle in his eyes, but I do know him that well, and what seems like a hundred butterflies take flight in my stomach.

"Seriously Mom, he was great. All my friends were totally jealous; you should have seen some of their dads." Cassie straightens up then, pulls her hair loose so that it falls around her shoulders. "Anyway, I'm going to my room."

That takes me aback. "You're going to bed?" I don't even try to keep the surprise out of my voice - I can't remember the last time that she went to bed this early on a Friday night.

"Well, yeah," she tells me, but with a tiny grin and a shrug that forewarns me that something's coming. "But I might call Jayne. Is that ok?"

"You just spent the entire night with her at the dance," Jack objects, sounding every inch the objecting father that I recall from my teenage years, and Cassie shrugs, shaking her head, giving him that withering "what do you know" look that I again recall subjecting my father to more than once, and that Cassie has subjected me to innumerable times.

"But that's different," she tells him, and I hold up a hand.

"Go," I tell her. "Just don't stay on the phone all night, ok?"

She beams at me, bouncing over to kiss my cheek, then Jack's, and then she's gone, doubtless to discuss with Jayne whose father mortified them, and who was wearing what. I turn to Jack, who's staring after her with a bemused look on his face. "Those two were thick as thieves all night," he tells me. "Couldn't separate them with a staff weapon blast. What could they possibly have to talk about?"

I pat his forearm consolingly. "All the girl talk they couldn't do with their fathers present," I tell him knowingly, and his mouth opens in a silent "Ah." I walk away from him then, heading towards the kitchen. "You want coffee?" I toss back over my shoulder.

"Sure," he calls, and I busy myself in the kitchen, pouring the coffee just the way he likes it. I don't have any cakes, so biscuits will have to do him, and I put the whole thing on a tray and carry it out to the living room. He's standing at the stereo when he hears me coming, and he turns quickly, coming towards me and taking the tray from my hands. "Let me get that," is all he says, and truth be told, I'm grateful he got there when he did. He's taken off his suit jacket and tie, unbuttoned the top button of his shirt and rolled up his sleeves, and if I thought he looked dapper at the start of the night, the rumpled, slightly dishevelled look is even better.

I'm reminding myself to breathe, and trying to calm my racing heart when he does something that stuns me into speechlessness, something that takes quite a bit of doing. He puts the tray on the coffee table, then comes back over to me, stopping just in front of me. He extends his hand, bowing a little at the waist, and says, "May I have this dance?"

I laugh; I can't help it, and he takes advantage of that to close the distance between us, one arm sliding smoothly around my waist, the other holding my hand. In our lessons, we always observed perfect formation, but he's having none of that tonight, pulling me as close to him as he can get away with. I don't resist, my arm going around his waist, resting high on his back, my head resting against his chest. We move slowly to the music, and my feet aren't in the slightest bit of danger, although I suspect that I wouldn't feel a thing if he did stomp all over them. My head is whirling pleasantly, and while I'm not so sure where this is leading, I'm not so sure that I care.

We've been moving like that for a less than a minute when the song finally filters through to my addled brain, and I pull back and look up at him, indignation warring with humour for my primary emotion. "I can't believe you picked this song," I tell him, letting indignation win out for the moment, smacking his back with my palm.

"It seemed appropriate," he tells me, and I make to pull away further, rather ineffectually I might add, but he pulls me back to him again as Elton John sings about counting the headlights in the highway, and being laid down on sheets of linen.

I always did love this song.

We move in silence for a little while longer, and I grin to myself when the song ends, only to start up again immediately. I'm very conscious of his head resting on top of mine, of the steady rhythm of his heart against my ear, and I could stay like this forever. Still though, something moves to me say to him, "I hope this isn't the way you were dancing with Cassie." His shoulders vibrate with suppressed laughter, and it's his turn to pull back a little, the hand that up to now had been around my waist moving around to cup my chin, tilting my head up so that I can look at him.

"There's a lot of things I want to do right now that I'd never do with Cassie," he tells me, his meaning clear in the way that he's looking at me right now, mixed in with a little bit of caution.

"Really?" I ask with a smile, letting him know without saying the words that I'm not going to run screaming away from him.

I know my message has got through when he gives me one of his trademark grins, whispering, "Yeah," before he leans down and presses his lips to mine.

It's not a long kiss, but for fireworks, it can't be beat, and we're both smiling at one another when we pull away. Then, without saying another word, my head returns to his chest, his heart beating under my ear, and we dance the night away.