This whole "General O'Neill" thing feels kinda odd. That's right, odd, like Rod Serling should be standing in the corner of my new office, situated somewhere between the credenza and this oversized desk. Or undersized at the moment, if you consider there isn't a single, solitary inch of desktop showing. Paperwork, I hate paperwork-hated signing my name as Colonel O'Neill ... I detest signing it now as General O'Neill. Though as I sign the next stack of triplicate forms with a flourish, I have to admit it does have a nice ring to it. I wave my pen in the air like a conductor, "Brigadier General Jonathan O'Neill." Yup, definitely has a nice ring to it. I give a little wink to Rod in the corner and he disappears in a puff of smoked-filled imagination.
My cursor hovers over the Solitaire icon on my laptop, but with a sigh, I move the curser to open my Outlook Express Calendar, and I can't help but shiver at how much the man I've become. I check my meetings for the remainder of the day, the schedule is light but forty eight hours from today, I'll be busy with briefings and Washington and all that other fun stuff General Hammond had the pleasure of taking care of. Damn, I miss him, and my feelings have nothing to do with wishing he were here to take back the paperwork and everything to do with the fact I never truly appreciated all the behind the scenes things he did to keep the SGC running smoothly.
After the last meeting, my aide enters the briefing room and hands me another sheath of paperwork and a fresh cup of coffee. I grimace, he smiles and leaves me with a file folder filled with so many pieces of papers that I wonder if there's even a tree left in any forest in the entire state of Colorado. I'm too lazy to go back to my office so I open the folder right there on the empty briefing room table, spread everything out, lean back in my chair and prop my feet up on the corner of the briefing room table.
Would someone please explain why I need to approve a dietary menu? New fluorescent fixtures for the bathroom? The number of rolls of paper towels needed? I'm a general and ... hello ... what's this? My lips slide comfortably over my teeth in my first smile of the day as I hold up a single sheet of paper to the light, turning it over and over, just admiring my signature. I jump up, making it to the door before I slap my forehead and return to the table to put all the papers neatly back into the folder, and toss the empty cup into the trash. I go into my office, drop the whole entire thing into my inbox and pick up the phone to verify the order that's still clutched in my hand. I think I surprised the technician on the other end of the phone with my enthusiastic "thank you." In a very un-general like gesture, I kiss the pink paper and place it on the desk, smoothing out all the wrinkles, mentally measuring the paper size for a frame. Rod's back. He's sitting on the leather chair and returns my thumbs up with a smile.
The more things change, the more they remain the same. I'm a general and Daniel, well, Daniel's still Daniel, ignoring my presence until he finishes whatever task he's working on. Every chair and stool is overflowing with papers and I decide to stand rather than experience Daniel's wrath by upsetting his very unique filing system. I wander around his office and he barely tolerates my intrusion, though he voices no objection. I see the furrowing of his brow every time I touch an untouchable object. It's kinda fun to tease him like that ... touch ... furrow ... touch ... furrow ... touch ...
"Did you want something, Jack?"
"Nope, just finish whatever it is you're doing." I give him permission with a roll of my hand.
He slams the book shut and flings the pencil down. "I'm finished."
I turn and walk towards the door, smiling wickedly once my back is facing Daniel, doing a very visual mental dance of happiness.
"You come into my office, interrupt me, and now you're leaving?" I hear the shuffling of papers, Daniel thinks he's going to pick up right where he left off.
"I thought you said you were finished?"
Daniel stammers, stutters and then finally groans loud enough in annoyance that I hear him. I sneak a peek over my shoulder at the sound of moving papers and books squeaking open to confirm that once again, Daniel has his head buried in a mountain of research, eyes riveted to an image on his monitor. Good, he's so distracted he doesn't realize that I've swiped my card through his door, locking it to the SGC personnel, and for good measure I manually override the safety feature before heading back to Daniel.
I don't even mask my approach because my special ops training is a moot point as far as my team is concerned, they sense me, they hear me ... they just know when I'm around. I would like to think it's because we're so attuned to each other and not because I'm getting old and losing my touch.
Daniel's gaze stays locked on the computer screen while his fingers glide effortlessly over the keyboard. "I thought you left."
"Why didn't you leave?" Daniel right hand leaves the keyboard to snatch up a pen and he scribbles down some notes on the ever-present legal pad.
I stand behind Daniel, look upward, smile and then proceed to kiss him right on the back of the neck, that sensitive place just where the hairline stops and the fuzz begins.
"You need a haircut," I breathe against his neck.
"Shit." He bats me away like a buzzing fly, jumps up off his stool and in his effort to twist around and reprimand me, his arm strikes a precarious pile of books and for a second we both watch as they tumble to the floor.
"Just great," he mumbles as papers flutter in every direction. Obviously my seduction technique needs some work. I slide his stool out of the way so there's nothing between us but air and I step forward, only to be held in place by Daniel's hand, which he has strategically placed on my chest.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?" He rotates his head in the direction of the camera mounted in his office. "The camera," he hisses, fixing me with a stare that confirms my craziness.
"It's okay," I say, pushing his hand out of the way and tugging his shirt out of his BDU's. I lean over and whisper into his ear, "I'm a general ... and I run this joint."
"All that means is a bigger court martial, longer jail time." Daniel attempts to slip from me, but I lock him in place with my body, sandwiching him between me and his desk, and finger his flaccid dick through his too-baggy pants. "Aren't ya going to salute me?"
"Salute you? Salute you? I'm thinking I should be calling the infirmary ..."
The rest of his complaint is muffled in my mouth as I pounce and kiss him.
I barely make out words like alien incursion and foothold situation as my hands latch onto his ass. "Listen to me ... can you just be quiet for moment? Ow ... stop that," I complain as Daniel stomps on my foot. "Sit down." I hold him by his forearms and physically force him to sit on the stool. "Sit ... stay ... listen." I keep my hands right where they are as a safety precaution. "Do you remember when me, you, Carter and Teal'c were sitting right here in this office, going over a list of pros and cons about the generalship?"
I should know never to make up words around a linguist, but sometimes it can't be helped. "Quiet. Do you remember ...? A simple yes or no will work here."
There is a look of confusion on Daniel's face, one that I'm positive will disappear in a minute if he will just be patient and let me finish explaining. I take a deep breath and try again. "And one of the things, actually the turning point in my decision, was your saying 'I could do anything I want'."
"Yes, I remember," he replies hesitantly. "But, if I recall correctly, Sam also said 'within reason'. May I ask why you think kissing me constitutes within reason?"
"Look," I say, taking his head in my hands. I pivot it up towards the camera. "Tell me what you see."
"No ... how about this. What don't you see?"
And Daniel studies it with as much intensity as the computer monitor only a little while before, and I can tell the second he makes the connection.
"The light isn't blinking ..."
"The camera is off?"
"Yup. Seems General O'Neill put in a work order to turn off various cameras in the SGC during certain times of the day. Locker room, showers, supply closets, Dr. Jackson's office."
"Yes ... for two hours today, your camera goes off-off."
Daniel checks his watch. "The door?"
I wave my pass key like a pendulum in front of his eyes. "Locked-locked."
Feral-like, he smiles and I get no warning before he grabs the sides of my jacket and sucks me into his personal space. "It's always been a fantasy of mine to have sex in my office ... bare assed, bending over the desk." He guides my hand to his crotch. "I'm saluting you now, general."
"Sex?" I squeak ... "Whoa, hold them horses, Daniel ... I wasn't thinking ..."
He holds me at arm's length, observing my insanity over the top of his glasses. "No sex?"
"You know our policy, no sex on base," I answer lamely.
"No sex on base," he repeats. "Then why the no camera? If you and me ... aren't going to ... if we can't ..."
"No sex." Daniel nods his head, the look of shock fading slightly.
"I was thinking more in the line of a little stress relief."
"You're going to come, and I use that word loosely, Jack," he snarls, "into my office, lock the door, and proceed to cop a feel and kiss me? How is that stress relief? Better yet ... for whom is that stress relief aimed at?"
"Okay," I throw my hands up in exasperation, "if you put it that way, it's a stupid idea. I thought that maybe, just maybe, when things got really bad, I'd be able to escape to your office and just, you know ... well, you would be like one of those stress relief balls."
"Stress relief balls?" Daniel is unable to hide the hint of a smile tugging at his lips.
"Yes, you know the ones I mean." I make a fisting motion with my right hand. "The soft squishy things you squeeze when real life becomes too overwhelming."
"So I'd get squeezed when you get stressed?"
"That's the idea."
Daniel's eyebrows converge. "Should I be insulted?"
"No insult intended," I hurriedly add.
"What else would happen, when you had a stress attack?" Daniel looks around the room and I swear if he picks up a pen and paper to take notes, I'm so outta here. "The camera is still off." He seems surprised.
This time I check my watch. "Ninety minutes and counting."
His hand cups the back of my neck and he pulls me forward, planting a chaste kiss on my lips. "Does that help with stress?"
I nod, he smiles and he kisses me deeper, his tongue pleading for entrance, which I grant willingly. "And that?" he asks huskily when we finally separate, "does that constitute as stress relief."
He fingers the outside of my BDU's, running them along my hard on. "And this?" Daniel tightens his grip. "Still feeling tense?"
I, General O'Neill, whimper in response as Daniel slowly unbuttons my shirt, leaving a trail of feather light kisses the length of my body.
"You're right, Jack," he murmurs against my neck, adept fingers undoing my belt, "this is great stress relief." Daniel works his way under the waistband of my boxers, wrapping his fingers around my cock. "Ahhh ... the general's saluting the civilian," he chuckles, "works for me."
"We have seventeen more minutes," Daniel replies wistfully. He's spread out on the couch in his office, his cock now at half mast, his pants and boxers pooled around his ankles. He looks at me, his eyes filled with hope. "What's the next part of SGC that's going to be camera free?"
Even though a half naked Daniel is appealing, my cock isn't even at half mast, it's been folded and tucked away for the day. I find my pants and boxers, slipping them on in record time and I sit on the very edge of the couch to tie my boots. Before I stand, I smack Daniel on his bare leg and motion for him to get a move on.
My watch beeps and Daniel looks up at the camera expectantly. "No light?"
I tap my watch face. "Nah, three minute warning."
I don't have time to utter another word. When Daniel pulls me in for two minutes and twenty seconds, I'm not too sure where he begins and I end. We break apart, breathing heavily, and I swipe my hand across my mouth. "I need to ..."
"I have to finish the translation for PX umm ... the one I was working on."
My watch beeps once more and we move our heads in sync to see the red light switch back on.
"General," Daniel says with a smile, bending down to pick up his books that had been totally forgotten during our stress relief session.
I walk to the door and punch in the reverse code, and again swipe my card.
"Hmmm?" Daniel is back in archaeologist mode, but there must have been something about my voice that attracted his attention, and he gazes up at me.
"This general thing? I think I like it." I offer up a little mock salute to both Daniel on the floor gathering his research materials, and to Rod Serling, who looks quite the dapper gentleman, dressed in a pair of BDUs, as he sits on Daniel's couch, looking quite pleased with himself.
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