"Colonel?"
Jack opened his eyes and found himself looking up at the ceiling, and a handful of concerned faces. Chief among these were Fraiser and Carter. The rest were Marines and Air Force personnel. There was one face conspicuously missing, and Jack noticed it instantly.
"Jaffer?"
"He's fine. Ibanez caught him."
"It was a good catch, too," Carter assured him, smiling down at him worriedly. "Considering he's covered in clam chowder."
O'Neill sat up, but Fraiser wouldn't let him get to his feet.
"Stay still for a minute, Colonel. I want to check your head."
"I'm fine, Doc." If sitting in the middle of a pile of mashed up breakfast foods and pie and covered with a lap full of clam chowder could be considered fine.
"I'll be the judge of that." She touched the back of his head and Jack winced despite his best intentions not to. "Hurt?" Fraiser asked him, catching the wince.
"No."
She gave him a look that told him she didn't believe him, and motioned for two of the Marines standing by to help him to his feet.
"Help the Colonel to the infirmary."
"I don't need to-"
"You'll go to the infirmary where I can check your head to make sure you didn't crack it open, Colonel."
"I'm not bleeding, am I?"
"That doesn't mean anything. Don't argue with me, or I'll call General Hammond."
O'Neill scowled, and looked over at the Airman that was holding Jaffer. The man was smeared with clam chowder, but Jaffer was doing his level best to lick him clean. Which was making it difficult to hold him.
"I'll take him, Ibanez." Jack said, reaching over.
"Sam can carry him."
"But-"
"Do you want to risk dropping him?"
"I'm not hurt, Doc."
"You hit your head pretty hard, Colonel," Carter told him. She'd seen the impact when he'd hit the chair behind him, and was really surprised he wasn't bleeding.
There was no use arguing when the two of them were ganging up on him, and Jack knew it. He scowled again, and shook off the Marines, telling them he was okay. They nodded, and stepped back, ignoring Fraiser's scowl, and Sam reached over and took Jaffer from the Airman.
"Thanks, Ibanez," Jack said, truly grateful to the man for catching his baby.
"Anytime, Sir."
"He's really a mess," Sam commented as the three of them walked down the corridor towards the infirmary. She was holding the puppy at a distance, not wanting to smear herself with his chowder mess, and Jaffer was squirming. He didn't like being held like that. Not even by his second favorite person in the world.
"Here, Sam." Jack reached over and took the puppy, and cradled him against his chest, ignoring the clam chowder. He was already covered in the stuff, so a little more wasn't going to hurt. Besides, there was more chance of Jaffer slipping out of Carter's hands than Jack dropping him because of any lingering head injury.
"You are a mess, aren't you?" Jack told his puppy, smiling despite his irritation at going to the infirmary. Jaffer's fuzzy black fur was flattened with chowder and smeared white in more places than not.
"He's not the only one," Fraiser said, reaching out and pulling a piece of egg out of O'Neill's collar. He had food all over him, and was definitely going to need to shower and change. But not until she'd had a chance to check him out.
They entered the infirmary and Fraiser reached over and took Jaffer from Jack.
"I don't want him on my beds."
"He's not-"
"Sam? Hold him, please?"
Carter took him again, but this time cuddled him so Jack wouldn't worry about her dropping him and would do what Janet asked without so much fuss.
Fraiser ran O'Neill through a quick series of tests, mostly just checking to make sure his eyes were focusing properly. He passed them all, but she was worried about the tenderness he demonstrated when she touched his head, so she got out an icepack and handed it to him, wrapped in a towel.
"Use that for the next twenty minutes."
"Here?"
"If I let you leave, will you still use it?"
"If you let me leave."
"Fine. Go to your office and find something quiet to work on for the next twenty minutes. Better yet, don't do anything. Just keep that to your head. Then you'd better get you and Jaffer cleaned up."
"Will do."
Eager to make his escape, Jack took his puppy back, and with Jaffer tucked under one arm, and the ice pack in the other, he left before Janet could change her mind.
Sam and Fraiser watched the two of them leave. Jack's entire back and rear were covered with pie and pieces of meat and cheese, and Fraiser wondered how one little puppy could have caused such a mess.
~*~
Jack didn't go to his office. He went to the locker room, so he could get himself and Jaffer cleaned up. Closing the door tightly behind him when he entered, he set the black lab down on the floor and stripped out of his uniform. Jaffer watched him with interest, and O'Neill dropped his shirt on the puppy, covering him up to keep him occupied while he got his boots and pants off. Since escaping from the shirt (or blanket, or towel, or whatever it was O'Neill was using at that particular time) was one of Jaffer's favorite games, it worked like a charm, and by the time Jack was ready to get into the shower, his puppy had his head thoroughly stuck in the arm of Jack's shirt.
"C'mere you little imp." Jack scooped up Jaffer, pulled the shirt off his head, and headed for the shower, the chowder smeared dog cradled carefully against his chest.
Fifteen minutes later, the two of them were clean again, and Jack was dressed in a clean uniform and heading to his office with Jaffer still wrapped in a towel to protect his uniform from getting any wetter than it already was. He sat down on the rarely used sofa and dried Jaffer off, roughly rubbing the towel all over the fuzzy body (which now smelled like Jack's favorite brand of shampoo).
Jaffer attacked the towel every time it came close to his nose, but he loved the attention and Jack knew it. The two of them wrestled over the towel for a while, then Jack remembered that he was supposed to be icing his head, and he reached for the ice pack. It wasn't very icy by this time, but he dutifully held it against the bump on the back of his head, and leaned back against the sofa so it would be pinned between his head and the back of the sofa and would leave his hands free to hold Jaffer.
Jaffer, however, was ready to calm down for a while. He climbed up O'Neill's chest as far as he could, and flopped down on him, counting on Jack to hold him in his position – which he did, of course. With the little wet cold nose stuck against his neck right under his jaw, Jack cuddled his puppy, smoothing the black fuzz into a semblance of order while Jaffer dozed off.
Jack opened his eyes and found himself looking up at the ceiling, and a handful of concerned faces. Chief among these were Fraiser and Carter. The rest were Marines and Air Force personnel. There was one face conspicuously missing, and Jack noticed it instantly.
"Jaffer?"
"He's fine. Ibanez caught him."
"It was a good catch, too," Carter assured him, smiling down at him worriedly. "Considering he's covered in clam chowder."
O'Neill sat up, but Fraiser wouldn't let him get to his feet.
"Stay still for a minute, Colonel. I want to check your head."
"I'm fine, Doc." If sitting in the middle of a pile of mashed up breakfast foods and pie and covered with a lap full of clam chowder could be considered fine.
"I'll be the judge of that." She touched the back of his head and Jack winced despite his best intentions not to. "Hurt?" Fraiser asked him, catching the wince.
"No."
She gave him a look that told him she didn't believe him, and motioned for two of the Marines standing by to help him to his feet.
"Help the Colonel to the infirmary."
"I don't need to-"
"You'll go to the infirmary where I can check your head to make sure you didn't crack it open, Colonel."
"I'm not bleeding, am I?"
"That doesn't mean anything. Don't argue with me, or I'll call General Hammond."
O'Neill scowled, and looked over at the Airman that was holding Jaffer. The man was smeared with clam chowder, but Jaffer was doing his level best to lick him clean. Which was making it difficult to hold him.
"I'll take him, Ibanez." Jack said, reaching over.
"Sam can carry him."
"But-"
"Do you want to risk dropping him?"
"I'm not hurt, Doc."
"You hit your head pretty hard, Colonel," Carter told him. She'd seen the impact when he'd hit the chair behind him, and was really surprised he wasn't bleeding.
There was no use arguing when the two of them were ganging up on him, and Jack knew it. He scowled again, and shook off the Marines, telling them he was okay. They nodded, and stepped back, ignoring Fraiser's scowl, and Sam reached over and took Jaffer from the Airman.
"Thanks, Ibanez," Jack said, truly grateful to the man for catching his baby.
"Anytime, Sir."
"He's really a mess," Sam commented as the three of them walked down the corridor towards the infirmary. She was holding the puppy at a distance, not wanting to smear herself with his chowder mess, and Jaffer was squirming. He didn't like being held like that. Not even by his second favorite person in the world.
"Here, Sam." Jack reached over and took the puppy, and cradled him against his chest, ignoring the clam chowder. He was already covered in the stuff, so a little more wasn't going to hurt. Besides, there was more chance of Jaffer slipping out of Carter's hands than Jack dropping him because of any lingering head injury.
"You are a mess, aren't you?" Jack told his puppy, smiling despite his irritation at going to the infirmary. Jaffer's fuzzy black fur was flattened with chowder and smeared white in more places than not.
"He's not the only one," Fraiser said, reaching out and pulling a piece of egg out of O'Neill's collar. He had food all over him, and was definitely going to need to shower and change. But not until she'd had a chance to check him out.
They entered the infirmary and Fraiser reached over and took Jaffer from Jack.
"I don't want him on my beds."
"He's not-"
"Sam? Hold him, please?"
Carter took him again, but this time cuddled him so Jack wouldn't worry about her dropping him and would do what Janet asked without so much fuss.
Fraiser ran O'Neill through a quick series of tests, mostly just checking to make sure his eyes were focusing properly. He passed them all, but she was worried about the tenderness he demonstrated when she touched his head, so she got out an icepack and handed it to him, wrapped in a towel.
"Use that for the next twenty minutes."
"Here?"
"If I let you leave, will you still use it?"
"If you let me leave."
"Fine. Go to your office and find something quiet to work on for the next twenty minutes. Better yet, don't do anything. Just keep that to your head. Then you'd better get you and Jaffer cleaned up."
"Will do."
Eager to make his escape, Jack took his puppy back, and with Jaffer tucked under one arm, and the ice pack in the other, he left before Janet could change her mind.
Sam and Fraiser watched the two of them leave. Jack's entire back and rear were covered with pie and pieces of meat and cheese, and Fraiser wondered how one little puppy could have caused such a mess.
~*~
Jack didn't go to his office. He went to the locker room, so he could get himself and Jaffer cleaned up. Closing the door tightly behind him when he entered, he set the black lab down on the floor and stripped out of his uniform. Jaffer watched him with interest, and O'Neill dropped his shirt on the puppy, covering him up to keep him occupied while he got his boots and pants off. Since escaping from the shirt (or blanket, or towel, or whatever it was O'Neill was using at that particular time) was one of Jaffer's favorite games, it worked like a charm, and by the time Jack was ready to get into the shower, his puppy had his head thoroughly stuck in the arm of Jack's shirt.
"C'mere you little imp." Jack scooped up Jaffer, pulled the shirt off his head, and headed for the shower, the chowder smeared dog cradled carefully against his chest.
Fifteen minutes later, the two of them were clean again, and Jack was dressed in a clean uniform and heading to his office with Jaffer still wrapped in a towel to protect his uniform from getting any wetter than it already was. He sat down on the rarely used sofa and dried Jaffer off, roughly rubbing the towel all over the fuzzy body (which now smelled like Jack's favorite brand of shampoo).
Jaffer attacked the towel every time it came close to his nose, but he loved the attention and Jack knew it. The two of them wrestled over the towel for a while, then Jack remembered that he was supposed to be icing his head, and he reached for the ice pack. It wasn't very icy by this time, but he dutifully held it against the bump on the back of his head, and leaned back against the sofa so it would be pinned between his head and the back of the sofa and would leave his hands free to hold Jaffer.
Jaffer, however, was ready to calm down for a while. He climbed up O'Neill's chest as far as he could, and flopped down on him, counting on Jack to hold him in his position – which he did, of course. With the little wet cold nose stuck against his neck right under his jaw, Jack cuddled his puppy, smoothing the black fuzz into a semblance of order while Jaffer dozed off.