Disclaimer: (waves hands in readers faces and uses the force to bend them to her will)"OwnStargate I do not, give me ownership you will...
I want to say I'm only barrowing the characters for a little while, but barrowing indicates a willingness to want to give what you've barrowed back, and who in their right minds would want togive back Daniel Jackson?
Sam Carter stood in her bedroom biting her lip and starring absently into her closet. SG-1 had been scheduled for a week's downtime by order of General O'Neill, a person whom she had vowed to herself yesterday to build a very technical and complicated weapon for and make him sit down and listen to every aspect of its ingenious dynamics before shooting him with it.
She had been planning to spend her downtime reconciling with her research on the alien technology that had been gathered the past few months. The best she had been able to do since her promotion and the addition of more pressing responsibilities was to fleetingly catalogue some of the most important looking things and pass them on to the civilian researchers in other labs.
But Jack was insistent that everyone needed to go fishing, that fishing was the most vital matter to attend to in the universe, and that any SGC personnel who did not take at least one day to go fishing in their time off should be shoved into an active wormhole that was about to suddenly disconnect.
Needless to say, earth's brilliantly intellectual flagship team concluded from this statement that their poor, overwrought commander should be sent to an isolated planet with no DHD and where there's lots of trees and rocks and fuzzy creatures that like to bite human ankles for entertainment.
However, upon consulting Walter Davis, it turned out that the paperwork for this notion would have lasted them each a decade, so a vote was taken and two of them ruled in favor of fishing over mutiny.
Teal'c, apparently, had some horrendously large issues when it came to sitting for hours on a dock casting lures into an empty lake and listening to O'Neill muttered some placating junk about the Zen of it all. Naturally, he ruled against, but was beaten by the majority.
Sam bounced down upon her bed next to an empty suitcase and wondered if it was too late to change her vote.
Her doohickeys missed her.
She could see their downcast sensors crying as she quickly walked in then back out of the lab with nothing but reports in her hand.
She heard their mechanical whines pleading with her to take them apart and reassemble them into a wonderful new machine that would save the galaxy from certain doom.
Sam was reaching for the phone when it suddenly rang.
She snatched it up, thinking that it was Daniel.
It normally happened that way. One of them was thinking the same thing as the other at the same time and it all depended on who could call whom the fastest.
The Anthropologist was probably going to tell her that his books were taking to him again and paperwork or not, he couldn't just abandon the darlings for another instant.
As it happened though, it was the General wanting to know how her packing was going.
"Fine, Sir" she mumbled.
"Carter, with that tone I wouldn't believe you even if you were telling the truth" came the reply.
"Did you really only call about the packing?" Sam responded, dropping the "Sir" which meant only one of two things: she was feeling especially affectionate towards him, or she was particularly frustrated and was scheming to have him professionally murdered.
Jack knew this and thought that either motive behind it was adorable coming from Carter and so continued doing whatever he was doing that caused that reaction, even if it meant a clean and precise homicide.
"Yes, I did, and I also wanted to tell you not to forget to bring that little red skirt with the flare at the bottom. You know, the one that matches that black shirt that looks like a tank top but has those cute oval straps that cover your shoulder and forearm"
Sam stood up and blinked a little.
She dwelled in an extensive silence before reaching into her closet and pulling out the outfit her CO had just described.
This type of behavior was not unnatural for Jack, he loved giving her clothing advice, but the articles she was now holding against her body and scrutinizing in the mirror were definitely not the kind someone would wear to a backwoods cabin on a fishing trip.
"Don't question it, Carter" Jack said through the phone, which was tucked between her ear and shoulder as she continued to display the outfit before herself.
Sam glared at her reflection, "If I may ask, Sir, when exactly would I have a chance to wear this?"
"When I ask you all to go into town for dinner and Daniel and Teal'c conveniently have other plans for the evening so it turns out that just you and me are up for it" he said.
This elicited a reluctant laugh from Sam as she folded the items and put them in her suitcase.
"Okay, now you need that Persian blue skirt that has the pockets with the white border and your jean jacket that matches it so well, then tell me if the green or white T-shirt looks better with it," Jack continued.
Sam put the phone on the bed while she collected the outfit and compared shirts, "The white T-shirt looks better," she noted to the upturned phone as she packed the things and returned to her closet.
"Good" Jack said, "Then you can wear the green one with those jeans that have the little swish at the ankle"
"Swish?" Sam quoted in amusement as she retrieved the jeans.
"Well, it isn't exactly a flare, but it's not tight and bunchy either…it's a nice, curvy, shape" he explained.
Sam studied the bottom leg of the pants and discovered that he was eerily correct, "Should I be worried that you know more about my wardrobe than I do?" she asked.
"No, you should be worried that there are some items in your wardrobe that I don't like and I want to take you shopping to replace them"
Sam picked up the phone and frowned as she went to inspect the rest of her closet, "Which items could you possibly dislike?"
Carter was not much for clothes; she had always been the studious, analytical type, even when she was a teenager and getting clothing what just something that had to be done. She had never paid much attention to what did and did not look good until O'Neill had seen her out of uniform for the first time and started giving critiques.
"Well, there's that blue cotton sweater that looks like a gift from someone's estranged grandmother who's living in Florida and only contacts them every Christmas so she can get rid of failed knitting projects" he said.
Sam moved apart some of her closets contents in order to scrutinize her light blue sweater with the one button, which happened to be one of her favorite items. It was comfortable and she liked to wear it whenever she was about to do something socially nerve wracking because it felt like a secure hug and gave her confidence.
She took it out and pouted at it.
"You wouldn't be saying those nasty things about this sweater if you knew what it did for me" she defended.
"Carter, I've seen you in it a thousand times…believe me, it does nothing for you…not that you need it to"
Sam took the phone away from her ear to narrow her eyes at it, "If it wasn't for this sweater" she began, "I would have never worked up the nerve last month to get out of my car in your driveway and make a fool of myself trying to talk to you about…some issues, and manage to keep it together when Kerry Johnson suddenly walked out of your house"
There was silence.
Which was good, because she wasn't finished.
"And a year ago, when we all got drunk at your place to celebrate Daniel's memory returning, and you and I woke up in a compromising position on your couch, the only reason I was able to stay over the rest of the morning and still look you in the face without turning seventy different colors was because I was wearing that sweater"
Jack made a noise on the other end of the line, as if he was getting ready to speak.
"And that incident with the fruit on PX3-840 that had you hallucinating for two days after we got home and you began confessing the wrong things to the wrong people until the entire base was teeming with rumors. The only way I was able to face the rest of the personnel and not lock myself in the lab waiting for everything to die down, was by wearing that sweater into work for a month."
Sam was about to mention another event in which the sweater had been her only security, but Jack cut her off.
"I love that sweater, it's absolutely fabulous on you, never throw it away" he coddled, albeit a bit monotonously.
Sam smiled indulgently and packed the sweater, just in case this vacation proved to have a few awkward moments.
"Now, I think you can handle I from here Carter. Just don't pack anything that I wouldn't…pack…for you…"
Sam smirked as she envisioned the glazed over expression on his face as he tried to work out that sentence.
"Anyway, I better call Daniel before he decides that matching those beige slacks with his plaid vest is a good idea"