The Naked Now
by Calantha42
Timeline: Season 10, post Memento Mori
Rating: G/K
Summary: General O'Neill and Cameron have a little chat about how to be an intergalactic space hero.
Generously beta-ed by chandri, who pointed out that I'm a terrible speller.
Disclaimer: Stargate SG-1 together with the names, titles and backstory are the sole copyright property of MGM-UA Worldwide Television, Gekko Film Corp, Glassner/Wright Double Secret Productions and Stargate SG-I Prod. Ltd. Partnership. This fanfic is not intended as an infringement upon those rights and solely meant for entertainment.
"Sir." Cameron Mitchell stood up straight, paperwork forgotten, as General O'Neill wandered his way into the small office.
"At ease, Colonel."
Immediately, Cameron let himself relax. A little.
"What do I owe the pleasure of this visit, sir?"
The General idly picked up a few of the pink and orange colored memos that decorated the top of his 'look at sometime soon' pile. "Carter kicked me out of her lab, and I'm not scheduled back in DC yet."
"I see," Cameron said, though he really didn't.
Going off world and facing mortal peril on a weekly basis had done wonders for taking Sam, Teal'c and Jackson off their very shiny pedestals, ironically enough. General O'Neill though was still a source of awe and intimidation. And right now the man was in his office, possibly for no real reason. Cameron couldn't tell if he ought to be giddy or afraid. He'd settle for both.
"Actually I've wanted to talk about a few things with you." Said the General, putting down the memos and grabbing for a few pens.
"Okay, talk away. Would you like a seat?" He motioned to a chair, grimacing as he noticed it was covered in papers, empty food cartons and books.
"Ah, no thanks. I'll be quick."
"Okay…"
"So, you're taking good care of SG-1?"
"Yes sir." He knew General O'Neill read all of the reports.
"They're always home by curfew, and eat all four food groups?"
Cameron smiled to himself. "I do my best sir, but Jackson only qualifies if one of the aforementioned groups is coffee."
General O'Neill gave a small snort.
"Good. That's what I've heard from them too. I was actually just talking to Carter about the team, and," he motioned expansively, "good job."
Cameron did his best to suppress the urge to preen. The original SG-1 was a notoriously tough crowd, and he was totally getting good reviews. Oh hell, he was grinning like a fool.
General O'Neill looked straight at Cameron. "There is something I think you may have missed. Didn't get the memo, or no one bothered to mention it…"
"Yes, sir?"
"The intergalactic hero always loses his shirt. No more of this pants business, you hear me? You've got it all mixed up. It's gotta be the shirt."
O'Neill strolled out of Cameron's office, before he could think of a single reply. Only one thing was running through his mind. Sam Carter was a dead woman.