holdouttrout: (blue_saturn)
[personal profile] holdouttrout
I just found this sitting around my drive, nearly complete. I'm hoping I haven't already posted it somewhere. That's happened to me before.

Title: Teamwork
Fandom: Stargate SG-1
Characters: Sam and Jack
Category: Friendship, Gen, Fluff
Word Count: 450
Summary: Sam's had a long night. If only she had a viable exit strategy.

It was a warm night, and Sam’s dress uniform was hot and itchy. She had just spent the last two hours in a flurry of introductions, small talk, and scrambling to remember people she'd met at events several years before.

She was a little frightened that most of the time, she could. Shouldn't her brain have pushed that sort of useless information out to make room for all the things she really needed? Naquadah power ratios, Asgard systems compatibility—those were much more important than the fact that the second cousin of General Holt competed in table tennis tournaments.

“Who likes table tennis, anyway?” she grumbled.

“I don’t know, I kind of enjoyed his recap of the fifth match.”

So much for being alone. Sam groaned. “You only liked that one because it was the last one.”

Jack clapped her on the shoulder. “I would never say it that way.”

Sam didn't get the chance to reply to that, because at that moment, General Holt himself spotted her. “Colonel Carter! I’d like you to meet someone.”

Sam pasted a smile on her face and waved to signal she would be right over. “I don’t suppose you have a reserve squadron of Jaffa hanging out in the kitchen. You know, for a little emergency on demand?”

“I looked into it once,” Jack said, keeping his voice low, because General Holt had decided to move their way instead of waiting, “but the wages they demanded were astronomical.”

Sam only kept from laughing through long practice, and because General Holt was on them.

“Colonel,” General Holt said. “Jack.”

“General!” Jack interrupted. He held up his cell. “I was just about to check in.”

Sam shot him a look that she hoped conveyed “Next time I’m going to leave you to manage the Jaffa on your own.”

He gave her a vague look and then flashed two fingers on the side opposite Holt. She sighed, put the smile back on her face, and made nice while Jack booked it for the double doors.

Two minutes later, her phone rang, interrupting a scintillating conversation about Amazonian spiders. Sam decided that maybe Jack could live, after all.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I should get this.” She hoped she looked apologetic enough.

General Holt waved her on good-naturedly, and Sam turned and started walking as quickly as she could without arousing too much suspicion or, perhaps worse, panic. She opened her phone. “I brought my car.”

“Already got the valet on it.”

Sam sighed, already anticipating kicking off her shoes. “Ah, teamwork.”

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