When Jack cooks Thanksgiving dinner, everything that could go wrong, does!
Sidenote: I wrote this for my third nanowrimo project ( so if it's wordy, you know why!
Other sidenote: This takes place in my alterverse, where SG1 includes 2 teenagers, Aisha Odre and Robin Johnsonn, whom Jack and Sam share joint custody of.
Enjoy!
"Are you sure, sir?" Sam asked cautiously as she followed Jack up the stairs into the briefing room. Jack nodded confidently. "Of course I am sure. You did Thanksgiving last year. Fraiser has a new daughter on her hands. Daniel – well, would you trust Daniel with Thanksgiving dinner?"
"No," Sam admitted. She wasn't sure she entirely trusted Jack with it, either, but discreetly and wisely refrained from putting this point forth.
"I mean, come on, he's as likely to put the turkey in the oven, start translating some irrelevant alien text, and next thing you know the turkey will be burnt and Thanksgiving dinner ruined."
"I could do it," Sam volunteered, cringing. Cooking was not her forte; neither was entertaining. But as far as the team was concerned, she probably had the most experience with both.
To her relief, however, Jack dismissed her offer. "Your apartment is too small. Besides, both girls are staying with you all weekend, and it is not fair to give you them and the burden of feeding nine people, too."
"Ten people!" Sam raised her eyebrows. "Just who have you invited."
"You, the girls, Fraiser, Cassandra, Daniel, Teal'c, and General Hammond."
"Big crowd," Sam commented. She was feeling less and less confident about this plan; cooking for the team was one thing, for if all went wrong that possibly could (and she was starting to get used to creating a contingency plan for every possible scenario) they could order pizza – were pizza places even open on Thanksgiving? she wondered – and nobody would mind much. This was beginning to look like feeding most of the mountain.
On the other hand, she reasoned, this was not her problem. It was Jack's, and no matter how badly it flopped, it would not reflect on her.
It was a reassuring thought.
"Can I bring anything?" Sam asked helpfully. Jack waved his hand dismissively. "I've got it covered. Mashed potatoes, sweet potatoes, green bean casserole, gravy, ham – "
"Ham?" Sam interjected. "Sir, ham is Christmas. This is Thanksgiving. Turkey Day."
"Okay, then turkey." Jack did not seem concerned. "How different can they be?"
Sam's uncertain feeling disapeared, to be replaced by definite knots.
It was going to be an interesting Thanksgiving, anyway.