Title: Party Line on the Booty Call
Author: tafkar
Summary: Sam, Daniel, and Jack's secrets are revealed when Sam stops by Daniel's.
Category: You down with OT3? (Yeah, you know me!) Humor, probably, as well.
Spoilers: You know who Pete is? You know Jack got a promotion? That's about all the spoiling there is.
Rating: PG-13
Archiving: Always welcome; just let me know you have done so.
Notes: Written for Fenriss.



Sam didn’t leave the mountain until well after dark. She couldn’t remember General O’Neill getting caught up in so much paperwork when he was 2IC. That’s probably because he never did any, she thought to herself irritably. The thought of the dusty files and delayed forms that were probably sitting in some disused storage room on the base, just waiting for her, made her even more frustrated; if she couldn’t keep up with her paperwork now, how would she ever catch up with the backlog?

As she drove toward home, she considered going back to P4X-369 to start a time loop, just for a few days until she could rest up from the work of taming the Pentagon’s wild white, pink and canary triplicate beast (use only black ballpoint pen – no printouts or photocopies). When she found herself writing code in her head that would automatically open the Gate on a timer while she was innocently lounging around the gate room, she realized she was far too wound up to sleep – especially because she was writing it in Pascal. Pete was on the night shift for the next two weeks, so unless she planned to drop off some Krispy Kreme donuts, getting quality time with him was right out. She thought about going to the General’s house for a minute, but if she saw him she might decide to test her Combat Level 3 skills against his rusty black ops training, just to get back at him for all the paperwork. Instead of taking the left onto North Union, she veered right onto Palmer Park and headed toward Daniel’s house, and wondered if her lack of guilt at considering other prospects than her betrothed meant that the military had made her a bit too good at this don't ask, don't tell stuff.

She made a quick stop at Tsunami for sushi and the liquor store next door for a bottle of wine. As an officer, it was only proper that she buy a gentleman dinner before she took advantage of him. His living room lights were on, but he didn’t answer when she gently knocked on the door. She pulled out her key to his apartment and let herself in.

The living room was empty, but she could hear the tones of Daniel’s voice, a mumbling low echo, from the next room. “Hey!” she called out. “Daniel, I brought sushi!”

She heard a muffled thud from the bedroom. “Uh, Sam?” Daniel’s voice called.

“Yeah,” she called. “I'm gonna go grab your corkscrew.”

“Um – hang on a second,” he called.

After a minute, he came into the living room, tugging on his big, loose green sweater and running his hands through his hair. “Hey!” he said brightly, taking the wine from her hand. “I didn’t expect to see you tonight.” He leaned in for a quick kiss, which quickly turned into a much deeper one.

She pressed more closely against him and felt him hard against her stomach through his tight blue jeans and bulky sweater. She put the bag of sushi down on the cluttered end table, balanced precariously atop of a tower of open books, and slid her hands up the back of his sweater, gently pushing him two steps backward toward the bedroom.

“Mmmmm,” he moaned into her mouth, running his tongue over her lips. Then, as she moved him closer to the bedroom, he jumped a little. “Hey! Um, shouldn’t we eat first? It’ll get cold.”

“I brought sushi,” Sam replied, licking the little hollow behind his left earlobe.

She felt him melt for a moment, and then recover. “Okay, it’ll get warm. And sushi – sushi is meant to be eaten fresh. Which is fascinating, because sushi originally evolved as a method to preserve….oh, that’s nice…” He moaned as she ran her lips down the side of his neck, breathing gently, and while he kept talking, his fingers began undoing the buttons of her shirt. “…um, to preserve the fish. The fish would be…mmm…placed under a rock with salt and rice for several months to….aaaaaah!” Her teeth nibbled on his throat. Daniel was the most stubborn man she’d ever met, but she knew a few dirty tricks of her own. She had a feeling she’d win eventually, especially since he’d just put the bottle of wine on the table behind the couch, and was sliding his hands inside her shirt toward the back of her bra.

“Clasp’s in the front,” she whispered in his ear.

“Mmm? Oh.” He slid his hands over her breasts. “Well, there were actually two steps to the preservation method –”

“Daniel!” a cantankerous male voice shouted from the other room. Sam leapt back, and quickly began buttoning her shirt as General Jack O’Neill walked out of Daniel’s bedroom. His shirt was a little askew, and his hair was mussed. She looked from O’Neill to Daniel and back again; the pieces fell into place. She was so surprised that she forgot all about the legacy of paperwork left by the General.

The general, in turn, looked at her with raised eyebrows. She’d had years to interpret the silent language his eyebrows spoke, and this one, accompanied with the half-quirk of a smile, meant I know what you’re up to.

“Jack! Um, hi!” Daniel grabbed the bag of sushi, holding it strategically in front of him. “Hey, uh, Sam just popped by, with sushi! Let me…go and…put it on plates.” He rushed into the kitchen.

The general took a few casual steps closer to Sam. “So,” he said.

“I think I brought enough to go around,” she said nervously.

Daniel, meanwhile, was continuing his narrative on the evolution of sushi. “In fact, sushi wasn’t served in the form we’re used to today until the 17th century.”

“So, I take it Daniel doesn’t know that you and I…” Sam said.

“Carter, listen to him tap-dance,” Jack said.

“Interestingly, in Osaka they still make a variety of sushi that hearkens back to the early methods of preservation.” Daniel spoke loudly over the clatter of dishes.

Jack leaned in closer. “You never told me that you were…” He waved his hand in Daniel’s direction, then back toward her.

“Well, you never told me that you were…” She repeated the gesture in his direction.

“Don’t ask, don’t tell, remember?” Jack said.

She raised an eyebrow at him. He shrugged. They looked into the kitchen.

“The use of vinegar in the preparation of the rice is probably a holdover from the earliest form of sushi,” Daniel said, oblivious to the quiet conversation in the other room as he began arranging the sushi on a platter. “Most Americans think the word sushi refers to raw fish, when in fact it’s an allusion to the vinegar used when the rice is cooked.”

Sam and Jack looked back at each other. He raised his eyebrows again. This eyebrow raise meant Are you game for my nefarious and possibly ill-conceived plan?

Sam smiled. “How long are we gonna let him squirm, sir?”

“Wasabi may have originally been used for its assumed antibacterial properties,” Daniel continued.

“I think it’s about time to change the channel from ‘The Story of Sushi,’” Jack said.

“Yes, sir,” Sam whispered, as they watched Daniel from behind. She took a moment to admire the way his ass looked in the tight blue jeans.

“Oh, and Carter?” Jack hissed back.

“Most Westerners soak the rice side of the sushi in soy sauce, but in Japan it's the fish side that's lightly dipped.”

“Yes, sir?”

“Don’t call me ‘sir’ for the rest of the evening, okay?”

She smiled. “Sure, Jack.”

They took up their spots on either side of the doorway. Jack gestured to her, first pointing to himself and then to Daniel's left, then to her and Daniel's right. She nodded. He began counting down on his hand. On three. One. Two.

“The Japanese method actually preserves the structural integrity of the sushi.”

Three. She went left, and Jack went right.

“The etiquette of chopsticks is also very important - ”

Daniel never knew what hit him.

The sushi, of course, was a total loss.

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