Novelty Yarns

by Christi

Post-Nemesis and through the beginning of Season Four

Really, if you had to be stuck on an alien planet, Jack had to admit that there were worse places than P3X-234. At the very least, the weather was temperate, there was fresh water, and even some good fishing once he had managed to jury rig a pole.

Which was why his current predicament was so ridiculous. Considering that he was alive and on a hospitable planet, Jack had no legitimate cause for complaint and yet, he found himself irrationally moody today.

He couldn’t have predicted it – after all, when requesting provisions for what he had assumed would be a suicide mission, Jack hadn’t really thought there would be time to sit down and knit a few rows.

The only thing making him feel a little better about the whole thing was Daniel’s absence, because at least Carter and Teal’c were smart enough not to comment on Jack’s obvious mood.

Seeing as Carter was currently trudging up the hill toward him, however, Jack thought that he might end up having to revise that conclusion.

Squinting, he looked up at her as she towered over him. “You’re blocking my sun, Carter.”

Unless he was hallucinating, she actually rolled her eyes before plopping down onto the ground next to him. “Sorry, sir.”

Feeling foolish, Jack sighed, all the while wondering why being on a team like this one was sometimes a little too close to being married again. “No, I’m sorry. I’m…in a mood.”

This time, he knew he hadn’t imagined the fleeting smile as she settled her chin on her knees. “Really? Teal’c and I hadn’t noticed.”

He glared at her. “Very funny, Major.”

“I thought so,” she confirmed with a grin that he couldn’t help but return.

Before he could get too comfortable just looking at her (which was pretty damn easy to do, he had discovered), Jack changed the subject. “You know, I should be mad at you two.”

“Oh?” she asked, sounding completely unconcerned in a way that both amused and irritated him.

“Yes! You…you defied my orders!”

“They were lousy orders,” she said dismissively. “Besides, General Hammond overruled you. If anything, we should be mad at you for making them in the first place.”

“Hey!” he objected, beginning to feel legitimately testy. “I’m the commanding officer, remember?”

She closed her eyes, as though gathering her patience, before opening them and gazing right at him. “Trust me when I say I’m very aware of that fact. But…well, the team has been together three years now. Did you really expect us to just leave you there?”

As much as he admired her (and Jack was well aware that it was too much), he sort of hated it when she made him feel all of two inches tall. “I was just….”

“I know,” she interrupted with that soft smile once again.

“I’m sorry,” he said, and actually meant it, which was even more surprising.

She shrugged, unfolding her legs and standing once again, a little stretch (understandably) distracting him for a minute. “It’s fine. Just don’t do it again.”

He raised an eyebrow at her tone. “Was that an order?”

“Of course not, sir,” she said in a tone that clearly implied that it had been. As he watched, she fished in her pockets for a moment before obviously grasping something and tossing it to him. “Here.”

Jack caught it purely on reflex and had to look down at it for a moment before the object really registered. “A yo-yo?”

“I thought it might help,” she said by way of clarification.

“Help with what?” he asked, playing dumb.

“Nothing in particular,” Carter replied, innocence laced so thick in her tone that it made him chuckle.

“Now now, I know you have a better poker face than that,” he teased her.

“Of course I do, sir,” she acknowledged before beginning to walk back down the hill.

“Hey Carter!” he called after her. “Why in the world were you carrying around a yo-yo?”

She turned toward him and in that second, with the alien sun streaming from behind her and that ridiculously perfect smile on her face, Jack couldn’t breathe.

“I wasn’t. It’s Teal’c’s.”

--

It just figured that Daniel’s first mission back after his appendectomy had to be to an ice planet. He hated ice planets. He had lived on a desert world for over a year quite comfortably – hadn’t that been a clue about his climate of choice?

The glare on ice planets gave him a headache. He was allergic to down and thus, had to have heavier, alternative winter wear. Not to mention that no matter how many pairs of socks he managed to put on while still being able to fit his feet in his boots, his feet somehow always got sopping wet and thus, frozen solid.

Figuratively, anyway.

And then it occurred to him – a solution so beautiful in its simplicity that Daniel actually had to curb the impulse to cheer. It would work, he was sure of it.

If only he could get Jack to agree.

Attempting to be subtle (and he suspected, failing miserably), Daniel slowly put down his many pairs of white, cotton socks…in favor of one perfect, hand-knit, 100% wool pair. “Jack…” he began, with a purposeful whine laced in his tone.

That particular tone had always irked Jack, so it was no surprise when he looked up from what he had been doing to glare at Daniel. The expression only increased when the older man caught sight of what Daniel was holding. “No,” Jack stated emphatically.

“But Jack...it’s cold on P4X-768,” Daniel persisted. “Besides, what good are all these socks you give us if we don’t use them?”

Across the room, Jack’s face took on a particularly vexed look that Daniel had learned to sort of relish over the last few years. “Daniel, I have never given you – any of you - socks.”

“If you say so,” Daniel said agreeably. “But then why can’t we wear the mysteriously appearing socks of indeterminate origin? They’d certainly be warmer than THREE of these crap cotton things.”

In fact, the woolen socks Jack had given him were so warm that Daniel couldn’t comfortably wear them about eight months of the year on Earth. But in this particular case, he was convinced that they were exactly what the podiatrist had ordered.

“I believe Daniel Jackson is correct, O’Neill,” Teal’c finally chimed in. (Score one for having another desert-dweller on your side.)

Even Sam seemed to be in agreement. “These long snow treks can get awfully uncomfortable, sir.”

Now thoroughly exasperated, Jack sighed, seemingly giving up. “Fine. But we are not discussing this any further, do you all understand?”

They were all too busy changing their socks to answer him.

With his feet happily ensconced in golden wool, Daniel leaned back for a moment to rest, overtly pleased with himself. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Sam trying to choose between a purple pair of socks and a green pair – having already dismissed a yellow pair as apparently being too light-weight.

That was when Daniel knew that he wasn’t going to leave this alone. Feeling particularly impish, he grinned. “So Jack, it occurs to me that while we are all lucky enough to have some of these mysteriously appearing socks of indeterminate origin, Sam seems to be more blessed than the rest of us. How many pairs do you have now, Sam? Four?

“Five,” she corrected absently, finally deciding on the green pair and pulling them on.

“Wow, Sam. The sock elves must really like you,” Daniel grinned.

“Oh, I don’t think it’s that, Daniel,” Jack practically growled out. “Maybe it’s just that her feet are smaller, so she’s cheaper to make socks for.”

“Because I’m sure the sock elves are very concerned with such financial details,” Daniel noted, his voice laced with obvious skepticism.

While Sam and Teal’c had both wisely remained out of the conversation for the last little while (instead seemingly having an unusual amount of trouble tying their boots), Jack had obviously had enough. “Daniel?” he asked, annoyed.

“Yes, Jack?”

Jack’s grin was wide and, under the circumstances, unexpected. “Put a sock in it.”

--

More than a little confused over how a harmless exploratory mission on an uninhabited planet that the Goa’uld didn’t even know about had led to the mess in front of him, George Hammond stared up the ramp at his flagship team. “Does someone care to explain this?”

After a silent moment, presumably waiting for her commanding officer to respond, Major Carter finally chimed in. This was wise, considering Jack seemed too busy glowering at the rest of his team to even notice that George had asked a question. “We had some trouble with the indigenous life forms on P4X-187.”

George frowned. “I thought this planet was uninhabited?”

“By people, certainly sir. But there was some particularly…unique…wildlife.”

“Unique?”

“By unique, I think Sam means disgusting,” Dr. Jackson chimed in, his voice laden with revulsion. “There were bugs. Big bugs.”

“Big?!” Colonel O’Neill finally broke in. “They were HUGE! They were the Godzillas of space roaches. With florescent pink spots.”

Confused, General Hammond turned to Dr. Jackson. “What do florescent spots have to do with the insect’s size?”

“Nothing, sir. They just really did have florescent pink spots,” Daniel was kind enough to clarify.

“Ah.” George had to admit, even if only to himself, that the image painted by those words was hardly a pleasant one. Still, it didn’t explain… “Okay, so there were bugs. But how did you all end up…well, covered in them?”

Gingerly picking her way down the ramp, Major Carter winced a bit, rubbing some of the hot pink slime off of her neck. “They were attracted to us, sir. We were forced to defend ourselves.”

“Actually, Major Carter, that statement is incorrect,” Teal’c intoned. “The bugs were not attracted to us collectively. Merely to O’Neill.”

Which would explain why Jack seemed to have about three times more gunk on him than anyone else. “Lucky me,” he muttered.

“Any idea why that was the case?” General Hammond asked, biting the inside of his cheek to hold back a smile.

“Pardon me, General, but if I knew why, don’t you think I would’ve stopped it?” Jack snapped.

As usual, his tone was tip-toeing on the line between sarcasm and insubordination. But considering the current circumstances, George let it slide. “I see. So, these bugs were swarming Colonel O’Neill. And then…?”

“Despite our best efforts, they would not retreat, General Hammond. I was forced to take action,” Teal’c reported mildly.

And that, right there, was the sticking point, because George couldn’t for the life of him figure out how it had been done. “How, exactly?”

He was pretty certain that by this time, Major Carter and Dr. Jackson were both struggling not to giggle maniacally. Meanwhile, Colonel O’Neill’s glower became even darker, if that was possible. Only Teal’c, steady as ever, remained unaffected.

“Considering their proximity to O’Neill, I did not think a gun was an effective method of removal, and my staff weapon lacked the necessary precision. As such, I was forced to appropriate O’Neill’s knitting needles to effectively remove the creatures.”

“My brand new, double-pointed size seven bamboo needles!” O’Neill groused. “Which are now completely covered in…I don’t even want to know what!”

George was too stunned to do much of anything but gape at his front line team.

“I offered to cleanse the needles for you, O’Neill,” Teal’c pointed out. “You did not accept.”

Because George was a professional, he did not laugh when Colonel O’Neill’s response to this was a frustrated flailing of his arms. But General Hammond did have to admit that he barely managed to curb the impulse.

“Well, of course not! I can’t use them now! That stuff was…sticky and pink and stringy and there’s no guarantee it all would have washed off, you know. The next time I used those needles, I would be running the risk of embedding my project with the remnants of alien goo.”

If George wasn’t mistaken, Jack had actually physically shuddered with that last thought.

It was all too much. He had to get them out of here. Fast.

“Okay, well, if that’s all, SG-1, I release you to the capable hands of Dr. Frasier. Make sure your blood work comes back clean before any of you leave base. Dismissed!”

His short bark startled them all into moving more quickly than usual (which of course, had been its precise purpose), and when George finally looked up from his intense study of the floor, they were gone.

That was when he finally, finally allowed himself to release the shouts of laughter that he had been holding back.

--

It was several hours before O’Neill was finally released from Dr. Fraiser’s tests and studies, and Teal’c had opted to stay near him – for the frazzled nurses’ sake, if for no other reason. As such, Teal’c had only just showered the excess bug residue off and was now comfortably waiting in the locker room for O’Neill to finish.

Which, considering the way that the pink substance had gelled and then hardened since their arrival back on Earth, was taking a bit longer than usual. As a particularly emphatic curse rang out from the direction of the showers, Teal’c couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow.

“Are you well, O’Neill?” he asked loudly enough to be heard over the running water.

“Depends on what you mean!” O’Neill called back. “I’m getting skinned alive trying to get this stuff off.”

“It was a little uncomfortable,” Teal’c allowed, though really, he hadn’t thought the sensation unpleasant enough to warrant such vehement exclamation.

“A little? This stuff is pulling out my hair by the roots! Any suggestions?”

Well, that explained the discrepancy in their experiences – body hair removal was one thing that Teal’c didn’t really have to concern himself with. “I would suggest that you wash faster, O’Neill.”

Exasperation laced O’Neill’s voice as it bounced back to Teal’c ears. “Thanks, buddy. That’s real helpful.”

Teal’c was distracted from answering right away by a movement on the other side of the room and the rush of cold air that came as the door to the hall cracked open. He was surprised to see Major Carter peer around the side of the door – not only because she normally avoided the team locker room when she knew her male teammates were occupying it, but because he had assumed she had left the SGC hours ago. She had been the least exposed to the alien substance and the first to be examined in the infirmary and consequently, the first cleared.

Nevertheless, here she was, tentatively slipping into the room with a silent wave and smile in his direction. One hand came to her mouth in a signal Teal’c recognized as her desire for him to remain silent about her arrival, and he nodded in agreement.

As he watched, Major Carter silently crept across the room toward O’Neill’s locker, beginning to fiddle with the lock mechanism. Of course, that was right when the water in the next room shut off, signaling O’Neill’s eminent entrance into the main room. Major Carter shot Teal’c a slightly panicked, pleading look, and because she was his teammate – and really, it must be admitted, because he was curious about her actions – Teal’c attempted to aid her efforts by stalling O’Neill.

“You are welcome,” he belatedly called to O’Neill in the other room.

A heavy sigh could be heard even at this distance – exactly the response Teal’c had been expecting. “Really, T. It’s been years now. It’s about time you caught on to my charming but sarcastic sense of humor.”

“My apologies, O’Neill. I shall endeavor to alter my responses to your commentary in the future.”

At O’Neill’s locker, Major Carter finally managed to open the combination lock, swinging the cubicle open with a triumphant grin sent in Teal’c’s direction. Moving as quickly as possible without making any undue noise, she reached into her shoulder bag and pulled out…a large ball of yarn. Yarn that he could not help but notice was a very similar shade to the alien substance they had all just finished washing away.

“Teal’c. You just did it again,” O’Neill scolded.

The ball was placed front and center in O’Neill’s locker, where it could not possibly be missed, and the door shut again silently, as though nothing had ever happened. Mouthing a silent “Thank you” in Teal’c direction, she began to creep out of the room as silently as she had entered it.

He bowed toward her, deeply amused by her actions. “Did I?”

In a feat of perfect timing, Major Carter managed to shut the door to the locker room just as O’Neill crossed the threshold between the showers and the locker room. “T…are you messing with me?” he asked.

“Of course not, O’Neill,” Teal’c replied dryly.

--

Sam hung up her phone with a sigh, looking around at her living room with a distinct sense of frustration. It had been a hard mission – not horrible or painful or anything, just one of those stupid days where nothing had seemed to go right. It was a trek through a bog, and then her equipment had failed when they finally got to the supposed naquadah deposit, she had twisted her ankle on the way back to the gate, and to top it all off, she was pretty sure she was going through a serious case of PMS.

All she had wanted for the evening was a long, hot bath, followed by a night of mindless indulging in the latest trashy romance novel she had borrowed from Janet and a big glass of wine.

Instead, the Colonel had just called to inform her that her teammates were coming over with pizza and movies. Really, it was sweet. It was just…not what she had wanted.

Well, at least she had already gotten her bath. Moving more quickly than she would have liked, she limped into her bedroom and pulled on some ratty Academy sweats – if they thought she was going to dress up for this, they were insane. Almost without thinking, she threw on a pair of blue socks too – the big, thick, super soft ones she had found in her locker after…God, she didn’t even remember anymore.

She finished with just enough time to pad to the front door and pull it open before they could pound on the door, having seen the lights from the Colonel’s truck. “Hey,” she greeted, maybe a little less warmly than usual.

“Hi, Sam!” Daniel greeted her enthusiastically. “We’re here!”

She raised an eyebrow, looking at Teal’c and the Colonel. “You’ve gotten him drunk already?”

“Not drunk. Tipsy, maybe,” Colonel O’Neill corrected. “Not my fault.”

“Right,” she said sarcastically as she stepped aside to let them in. “Because Teal’c is such a rabble-rouser.”

Teal’c’s response was to blink, which almost made her smile. Almost.

Colonel O’Neill didn’t even have the grace to look guilty as he shut the door behind them. “Yeah, well…” he trailed off, glancing just about everywhere if it meant avoiding her gaze. Which somehow meant that his eyes found – and stayed on – her feet. “You’re wearing socks,” he noted, a strange tone in his voice.

Sam glanced down at her feet, wiggling her toes and then regretting the whimsical movement when a lance of irritation shot up her right leg. “Yeah. I always wear…socks…after lousy days.”

Before she had time to be embarrassed by this revelation, she caught sight of his grin, a crooked but pleased expression that lingered in his eyes longer than he allowed it to stay on his face. “Yeah?”

And with that look in his eyes, she suddenly felt less annoyed by them, less tired, and even a little less sore. “Yeah.”

For a moment they just gazed at each other, long and silent and surprisingly, simply, happy. “We have beer,” the Colonel finally volunteered, breaking the silence.

It wasn’t a big glass of wine.

But it would do.