Same Old, Same Old

***

"We should probably talk about this or something." Colonel O'Neill shifts to his other foot, obliquely displaying his real insecurity on what's happening. On a good day, the man resembles nothing more than a rather intelligent four-year-old someone's jacked up on Mountain Dew, but on duty he usually gives nothing away unless he's really unsettled.

Sam's feeling a bit disgruntled in that the thing that's happening is making him visibly nervous. It's a bit irritating.

"I don't want to. Sir."

"We should."

"But we're not going to. Sir."

She knows he's eyeing her from the side, but she's really just past caring at this point. He can very well bring her up on insubordination charges - and wouldn't THAT hearing be a hoot - if he wants, but they're not talking about this. They've unilaterally ignored many, many, many things in this weird command relationship they've been dancing around in over the last six years, and she's determined that this is going to be one of them.

They're on an alien planet and she's claiming alien influence.

"It's going to be hard to ignore. George is going to make comments."

"If you're calling him George, I'm speaking my mind."

"Right then, Major."

They stared out off the alter for a time. After a bit, he started swinging their melded hands. That whole insubordination charge thing was getting less and less threatening.

"I didn't MEAN to touch the sticky stuff."

"No, sir."

They waited some more. He stopped the hand swinging.

"Really, I'm sorry."

She sighed. "Yes, sir."

It was going to be a long day.

-fin-

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