Author's notes: just a swift reply to a challenge set at the 'As The Stargate Turns' writers group. It was supposed to be a drabble containing both the word 'paperboy' and the sentence 'three lighters, two MREs and this shiny flashight and that's my final offer.' That was a tad testing, so ended up with a double drabble. It is rather lacking in substance, considering my normal angsty ways, but it may be fun.
Disclaimer: Nope, don't own them. You know the score.
Breakfast
"You have got to be kidding me," said Daniel. "I mean, really, Jack".
The mission leader was not amused.
"I'm not kidding, Space Monkey. I have last watch. So it's you or me."
"Why not Teal'c?"
"Don't be an ass, Dannyboy. He won't be here, come morning."
"So what do I get if I cook breakfast, Jack?"
"Three lighters, two MREs and this shiny flashight. And that's my final offer."
"It soooo is not!"
A certain Colonel scowled. Then he played his only trump card.
"Well then, Sam can cook."
Daniel snorted. "No, she can't!"
"That may be true, Mister Intellect Of The Year, but I can stomach her breakfasts waaaay more than you can."
"Doesn't mean you want to, Jack."
The Colonel scowled even more.
Damn. It was so true.
Doctor Daniel Jackson, perhaps unwisely, chose to niggle the him a little more. "You only do because you like h..."
His statement ceased as he saw the scowl turn into the Jack O'Neill patented stare of death.
"Exactly what is this going to cost me, Daniel?"
The younger man smiled. "All of the above and five new notebooks. With waterproof covers."
The Colonel considered his offer. And sighed. "Done."
The archaeologist chuckled and spoke without thinking. "Then I can call you my paperboy."
The reply was a little flat. "Only if you want to be dead before breakfast, Daniel."