A/N: Ok, this idea got into my head during an English Literature mock exam I did, while my 'internal jukebox' was on the fritz. I had Pinky and The Brain, Grease's Summer Nights, Ten Green Bottles (ok, that's nift's fault. I love nift's work! I read it the night before…) and Samba de Janeiro by Bellini. Don't worry if you don't know the last one, few people bloody do… Anyway, Jonas-centric fanfiction + Bellini this…
Title: Samba!
Summary: There are some days that make you wish you'd stayed in bed. For Jack, this was one of them… Part 1 of the O'Neill-Chan in Wonderland series
Warnings: Mild satire of all characters. AU-ish, I suppose, as everyone is there (e.g: Daniel, Jonas, Janet, Hammond, BALD Teal'c…). It's pretty much a pointless laugh that seemed far too entertaining during an exam. I mean, after doodling it on my hand, I burst out laughing and the guy who was also taking it (neither of us where there for the ACTUAL exam) gave me funny looks. Look out for future one-shots from my O'Neill-Chan in Wonderland series! Before anyone starts, I know –Chan is the wrong suffix, but it sounds so much cuter! Er…
Disclaimer: See profile.
Jack O'Neill woke up with a start. He'd fallen asleep at his desk again, coffee in one hand and drooled over papers on his desk. The mission report for the recent Langaran incident was all he had left for his inbox, but now he had to restart…
Sighing, he shook his head. He'd had one hell of a nightmare, yet he couldn't completely remember it…
It had something to do with feathers… And Ba'al. He distinctly remembered Ba'al.
Taking a sip from his cup, he cringed. His coffee was cold and disgusting, far from drinkable.
I'll have to get another cup, he mock-sighed. Anything to put off his mission report.
He walked to the door, coffee cup in hand, getting the distinct feeling of déjà vu. He was sure he'd done something similar recently.
He opened the door.
And nearly screamed in fear.
Loud Brazilian music was blaring from the PA system. How he'd been able to miss it in his office, he wasn't quite sure, but it was there.
That, however, was not the scary part.
Oh no. The part that would undoubtedly give Colonel Jonathan 'Jack' O'Neill of the United States Air Force nightmares for the rest of his life was the dancing man before him.
Jonas Quinn.
Jonas Quinn in a bikini.
Jonas Quinn in a sparkly, gold and green, thong bikini with feathers sticking out from a matching head-dress and from his ass.
Jonas Quinn dancing in a sparkly, gold and green, thong bikini with feathers sticking out from a matching head-dress and from his ass.
Jonas Quinn dancing in a sparkly, gold and green, thong bikini with feathers sticking out from a matching head-dress and from his ass with the rest of the personnel on base dancing behind him.
Jack dropped his cup and ignored the smash as it impacted with the floor. Truth be told, he didn't really hear it.
He was too freaked out. Sure, things around the SGC got a bit crazy at times, but this…
"Jonas! What the hell do you think you're doing!"
Jonas, who had been oblivious to the Colonel's presence, stopped his 3/4 dance steps and the wiggling of his hips (Jack had been scarred for life) and beamed at his former CO.
"Colonel! Join the line!"
Jack could feel the vein in his neck attempting to burst. Why was the alien dancing around the base?
"You had better have a damn good explanation for this, Quinn!"
Just as he was about to attack the still-unsuspecting alien, Daniel appeared and draped his arms around the younger man.
"Hey, Jack!"
Thankfully, Daniel was still wearing his BDU's. At least he wouldn't have to add another dancing guy to his nightmares.
Siler waltzed past in a green sarong, with matching hat and fruit on his head. Jonas managed to grab a banana as he passed. Jack knew that he would never be able to look Siler in the face.
"Jonas said this is a traditional thank you gift to heroes on his planet. It really is a lot of fun, you should join in."
Jack looked skeptical. He wasn't convinced. To be honest, he thought he was going insane. And yet, this all seemed so familiar…
"Do I have to wear that?" he asked finally, being unable to bear the Kelownan's - sorry, Langaran's - constant pleading and Daniel's puppy dog eyes. There was also the event of Sam dancing her way past and slapping his ass, but he was sure that was in his head.
There's no way Carter would do that for real. Would she?
"No, of course not!" Finally happy, the odd pair samba-ed their way past his door. Jack felt relieved; once the end of the line was past, maybe things would go back to normal…
"Hey, I haven't seen Teal'c so far. Maybe I'm not the only sane person around here…"
As he was speaking, General Hammond and Janet Fraiser were doing the tango along the hall, Janet dipping General Hammond every now and then, a syringe in between her teeth. George was giggling like a school girl and waved to Jack as they went past.
Jack shuddered and decided to try and pretend it wasn't happening. If it continued for long enough, he'd instigate a foothold lockdown himself; contrary to popular belief, he was not a stupid man. Realising his coffee cup had gone to pottery heaven; he made his way through the sea of gyrating bodies towards the mess hall, grumbling as the less apt stood on his feet.
This consisted of the majority of the base.
When he finally thought he was in the clear, he found what he hoped would be the weirdest this event could get.
Teal'c was in a nun's outfit. Jack paused for a moment to consider how he had gotten hold of the garment, let alone finding one to fit him, but decided he didn't want to know. Instead, he allowed his mouth to drop in disbelief.
"T?"
Teal'c inclined his head in the usual manner. "O'Neill."
"Nice outfit there, buddy," Jack managed to say eventually. The habit truly looked hilarious on Teal'c.
Teal'c raised an eyebrow and looked down at his outfit, slight confusion on his features. He raised his head once again and smiled gently.
Teal'c smiled.
The world has gone nuts, O'Neill thought to himself.
"Thank you, O'Neill. I must be leaving now."
With that, Teal'c all but ran away. Apparently, the complement had scared the shol'va.
Shrugging, he grabbed himself another cup of his caffeine (Maybe that's what causing me to see these things; too much caffeine, he mused), he left and decided to check on the control room staff. Someone had to be sane around here, right?
The control room was just as bad as the rest of the base. The people were dancing all over the place; most of the personnel in the control room weren't supposed to be there. Shaking his head, he parted the crowd like Moses parted the sea and looked into the embarkation room.
"What the hell!"
Down in the embarkation room, the Stargate was active and the iris open. Inside the room, which was (thankfully) securely shut, was Thor, making his wheelchair move to the beat, and a smarmy looking weasel of a man was attempting to do the Jive next to him, with little success.
"NID," Jack muttered, sipping his coffee. "Figures."
Jack cringed. His coffee tasted awful, even though it was a fresh cup. This was all becoming far too familiar…
Jack screamed.
He had a very good reason to scream.
There was another presence in the 'Gate room.
Ba'al.
Ba'al was dancing in a garb similar to that of Hathor, and was doing a pretty good job of it. Jack wasn't too sure of the afro wig though…
Rubbing his eyes, Jack confirmed that the sight was real.
He promptly turned and ran, yelling his head off until he reached his office.
Unfortunately, his door had been replaced by a brick wall.
Jack ran into the wall at his top speed.
I don't believe it. I fought the wall and the wall… won.
Jack O'Neill woke up with a start. He'd fallen asleep at his desk again, coffee in one hand and drooled over papers on his desk. The mission report for the recent Langaran incident was all he had left for his inbox, but now he had to restart…
Sighing, he shook his head. He'd had one hell of a nightmare, yet he couldn't completely remember it…
It had something to do with feathers… And Ba'al. He distinctly remembered Ba'al.
Taking a sip from his cup, he cringed. His coffee was cold and disgusting, far from drinkable.
I'll have to get another cup, he mock-sighed. Anything to put off his mission report.
He walked to the door, coffee cup in hand, getting the distinct feeling of déjà vu. He was sure he'd done something similar recently.
He opened the door.
Never End
So, what do you think? It's random and pretty weird, but I hope it wasn't so completely insane as to be the most awful thing you've ever read. My first posted SG fanfiction! Yay! I have (not very good) edited pictures of both Teal'c and Jonas. It's basically their heads pasted on the appropriate bodies, but still... It's good for a giggle.
By the way: originally, Jonas wore what I put Siler in, but this was more appropriate.
Please leave your thoughts; they will contribute to the next part of O'Neill-Chan in Wonderland!
Yours,
Straitjackit.