Work Text:
Gifted Class
I know that there is some controversy surrounding exactly when Sam's birthday is. I'm choosing, for the purposes of this story, to go with the birthday displayed on the screen during "Entity", that shows Sam was born on December 29, 1968. I know that Orlin gave her an emerald (ostensibly her birthstone) in "Ascension" which would indicate that her birthday was in May, but I'm thinking that her personnel file would be more accurate.
Besides, since mine is the next day (although of a slightly different year), that's a way cooler birthday than some random date in May.
And because I'm in a shippy mood, this is fluffy around the edges. If you are averse to fluff, be ye therefore warned.
"Okay, guys, we need a plan."
"Yeah, the plan is to find something that she won't kill us for giving her."
"I believe the plan requires us to locate and purchase a gift in honor of Major Carter's birthday."
The three men stared at each other. It was a safer bet than looking anywhere around them.
They were at the Mall. The bastion of all that was Girl. That rare and wonderful place where people of all creeds, colors, and backgrounds went in noble quest of the perfect piece of crap to complete their otherwise lacking lives.
The place where testosterone went to die.
"I don't get it." O'Neill cast a discontented look around him at the teaming humanity frothing around him. "Christmas is over. What are all these people doing here?"
"I believe many people are attempting to exchange items they received in favor of the items that they truly desired." Teal'c's eyebrow raised almost imperceptibly. He didn't even try to hide his aversion to this practice. "Returning a gift in such a fashion is negating the honor of receiving the gift in the first place."
"Yes, well, you don't have an Aunt Doris, T."
"Indeed, I do not, O'Neill." Teal'c's eyes came to rest on the Colonel. "I fail to see how the nomenclature of my parent's siblings comes to bear with the practice of disregarding the thoughtfulness of others."
O'Neill cracked a half a smile. "When I was eight, my Aunt Doris gave me a Barbie doll for Christmas."
Daniel snorted—then laughed out right. "And what did you do first, Jack, curl its hair or make it new clothes?"
"Well, my mom and dad wouldn't let me exchange it—saying it would be ungrateful. They made me write a thank you note, and then sent me on out to play."
"What happened to the doll?"
"I bought a roll of Max Pop M-60s off a guy on the street, drilled some holes in the doll, inserted the firecrackers, and blew it up."
"You're kidding."
"Nope—you'd be surprised how far a Barbie head will fly when you use enough firepower." He smiled at the memory.
"That explains a lot about you, Jack."
"Why? What would you have done?" Jack gestured to Daniel with one hand, his face expectant.
"I actually had a few dolls like that." Daniel shoved at his glasses. "I made historically accurate costumes for them and created dioramas for school projects."
"And that explains even more about you."
Teal'c ignored both of them. "Yet still unexplained is the reason for the not inconsiderable crowds here today. They cannot all be here to exchange gifts."
"No—some people are here looking for good after-Christmas specials. Most stores are offering huge deals right now." Daniel pointed meaningfully at several large "Sale" placards taking up space in front of stores.
"You sound like you go to the mall a lot, Daniel."
"Not really—I'm just observant and know how to read, Jack." He mused, narrowing his eyes at the older man. "I wouldn't expect you to understand."
"Gentlemen. Friends. Might we not focus our energies on finding a suitable gift for Major Carter?"
Jack rocked back on his heels, blowing out a frustrated breath between his lips.
"I think we should give her a gift card again. That seemed to go over well last year."
"I doubt she's even used it yet, Daniel." Jack ventured a look over Daniel's shoulder, where a store window displayed a series of mannequins in various stages of undress. They were all bald, posed in a provocative tableau, wearing little more than strips of fabric clinging to their plastic figures. They looked to Jack like a gaggle of Mummies. The name of the store was Pharoah. "And didn't you give her one for Christmas?"
"Yeah, you're right." Daniel noted and then followed Jack's gaze, turning his body around to look at the store. He sighed heavily, shaking his head. "Will you look at that? They have weaponry from the Raneb Dynasty totally mixed up with statuary and canopic jars from the reign of Amenemhet the Third."
Jack stared at the windows—somehow he'd missed the crap around the mannequins. Littered around the windows were replicas of Egyptian artifacts—jars decorated with people's heads, scarab beetles, and gold painted staffs and crowns. Behind the scene were drapes painted to look like walls, complete with hieroglyphs.
And even though he knew better—even though he knew he'd actually get an answer—he still found his mouth forming the words, "What's the difference?"
"Only about a thousand years." Daniel ran an exasperated hand through his hair. "That and the fact that Raneb convinced his people to worship a goat, while Amenemhet the Third was known for technology like water wheels and a canal system—you know—little stuff like that kind of sets them apart."
"What does it matter?" Jack shrugged. "It's a lame store in a mall. Who cares if they have the history right?"
"Well they could at least try—if they are going to use the figure head of a proud, industrious people as their brand name, the least they could do is perform a basic fact check before totally screwing up the realism of their display cases."
"They're catering to sixteen year old girls with Daddy's credit card—who exactly among them is going to care about Amendment's canals?"
"Amenemhet."
"That's what I said."
"You said, 'Amendment'."
"No I didn't."
"Yes, you did."
"No."
"Yes."
"O'Neill. Daniel Jackson." Teal'c glared at both of them from under the folded edge of his green stocking cap. "We are here for a specific purpose. Perhaps we should endeavor to accomplish it."
Daniel turned around again, "Okay, you're right, Teal'c. So, ideas?"
"You had suggested a gift card might be amenable." Teal'c looked at Daniel expectantly. "Which retailer do you think Major Carter would be most likely to patronize?"
"Sharper Image." Daniel nodded in the direction of the store. "A few years ago I gave her something from there."
"That little clock thing?" O'Neill waved a hand vaguely in the air above it. "The one that shines it on the roof?"
"The alarm clock—and yes, it projected the time on the ceiling so that she could see it without having to turn over to look at the clock."
"That was actually pretty cool." He tried not to imagine the clock where it sat on the little table next to her bed. He tried not to visualize the Major in bed, staring up at that projection. Then, of course, he had to force himself not to imagine her on her back, timing certain activities by the light of the projected display. He wondered how having the time on the ceiling for a woman to look at would pressure certain—other—activities. Activities in which endurance and stamina counted heavily into the final grade. He scowled. "On the other hand—it's kind of a crappy gift."
Daniel absorbed that information momentarily before turning towards the Colonel. "Jack?"
"Yeah, Daniel."
"She told me she put that in her room at home."
"Yeah?"
"So how have you seen it? When was the last time you were in her bedroom?"
Jack opened his mouth, but nothing came out but a strangled "Gah."
"Have you been in her bedroom lately?"
"Not like—that." Jack spluttered. "Not how you're meaning it."
"Then how?"
"When she had that–guy—there—you know, the glowing guy."
"Orlin?"
"Yeah—I went over there to help her search for more cameras. You were still off-world doing something else. I saw it then."
"Uh-huh." Blatant, delicious disbelief. That's what Daniel's tone said.
"Shut up, Daniel."
"I mean, it's not like we're never over there. We go to her house all the time."
"I've never been in her bedroom."
"Have you not, Daniel Jackson?" Teal'c intoned, "It appears you are the only one of us for which that is true."
Daniel stared at the Jaffa. "When were you in her bedroom?"
"Just a few days ago when we celebrated Christmas at her home."
"I don't remember you going in her room—" Daniel's voice trailed off as he shook his head, deep in thought.
"She asked for my assistance in helping to wrap several gifts."
"Yeah." O'Neill nodded. "She hides them under her bed."
"Jack?" Within that word lay a mountain of meaning.
O'Neill rolled his eyes. "She told me that, Daniel. Get your head out of the gutter."
"Pots and kettles, Jack. Pots and kettles."
"Are you suggesting we gift Major Carter with cookware, Daniel Jackson?"
"Uh—no, Teal'c." Daniel's face turned stricken. He couldn't quite control the shudder that ran through him. "Can you imagine what she'd do if we gave her pots and pans for her birthday?"
"It would be like that time we gave her the blender."
In unison, all three men sighed. That had not been a good day.
"Well, we'd better walk, at least. We're not going to find anything if we just stand here." Daniel gestured to his left, towards the inner sanctum of the Mall. They'd been standing just inside the main entrance. To their right ran a long corridor over which blazed a neon sign proclaiming, "Food Court". To the left, the Mall continued in a long, winding path. The whole thing was essentially a round track from which a few arms branched out. On the ends were the anchor stores—and hundreds of smaller boutique stores marched in obedient, if not soldierly order between.
Uncertainly, they started out.
-OOOOOOO-
"Jewelry?" Daniel suggested.
"What kind?"
"I don't know. She normally doesn't wear much."
"Then, nope."
-OOOOOOO-
"Perfume?"
"Have you ever known her to wear perfume?"
"She usually smells like gunpowder and soap." In other words, Jack thought, she usually smelled perfect. Even a little kinky, if you got right down to it. He barely hid the grin that had overtaken him at that point.
"Then I guess perfume's out."
-OOOOOOO-
"Perhaps she would enjoy a treat from this confectioner's shop." Teal'c had stopped in front of the Godiva store.
"Milk or Dark? Truffles or plain? Fruits? Chews? Crisps? Toffee? Caramel? " Daniel stared at the assortments in the window, the array dizzying in its intensity.
"I know she likes nuts." O'Neill deadpanned.
"Jack—was that necessary?" Daniel had thrown him an excoriating look before stalking off.
"I thought it was." The Colonel had muttered.
-OOOOOOO-
"Clothes?" This from O'Neill.
"You know her size?"
"No—but we could guess."
"And what if we guess wrong? Too big, say—"
"Gah—" It was O'Neill's turn to shudder. "Ouch."
"Exactly."
-OOOOOOO-
"Music?"
"Her taste in music is quite eclectic." Daniel shrugged. "I wouldn't know where to start."
"I could suggest that Bra'tac record and transmit to us a selection of Jaffa war music." Teal'c had actually looked kind of excited about that one. "The horns of the Kol mak'tash are indeed stirring and arousing."
For once, Daniel and Jack had been on the same page.
"Maybe for Valentine's Day, T." Jack had moved on, dragging the rest of them with him.
-OOOOOOO-
"No." Daniel's denial was flat, vociferous, and final.
Jack couldn't even talk.
"No, Jack."
He gazed in silent, contemplative wonder, at the array in front of him. Imagining blond hair and soft skin and blue eyes and that—
"Jack—I mean it." Daniel tugged on the Colonel's arm ineffectually.
"But—" A pathetic whisper—more plea than anything else—was all that he could muster.
"Look, Jack, you can give that to her if you want, but I happen to like my 'nads right where they are."
Jack had to admit that was a good argument. Sighing one last time, he stepped away from the window where the myriad sultry secrets of Victoria were so openly displayed.
-OOOOOOO-
"Why does she have to have a birthday so close to Christmas, anyway? It's like cheating or something."
"Why is it cheating?"
"Because you have to figure out something for Christmas, and then just a few days later, you have to come up with something for her birthday, and if you get something lame, she'll just think that you got it in a clearance sale, or you've regifted it."
"What is a re-gift?" The terminology sounded decidedly odd on Teal'c's tongue.
"It's when you give someone something that somebody else gave you."
Teal'c looked appalled. "Who would do such a thing? Gifts should be bought with thoughtfulness and deliberation—not selected merely because you yourself do not want such an item."
Jack nervously glanced up at Teal'c green stocking cap. That had been an Aunt Doris original. Teal'c, however, had been delighted at the gift.
Moving on.
-OOOOOOO-
"Perhaps an item from that establishment would be appropriate." Teal'c had stopped in front of a store that proudly announced itself as "Ye Olde Knife Shoppe". In the window, an anvil had been draped in velvet to display a selection of weapons. "I believe that one with the ornamental handle would be pleasing to a woman such as Major Carter."
And the knife was perfect for her. But damned if the Jaffa didn't just go right ahead and buy it, waiting patiently as the store clerk wrapped it in a simple black box with a silver bow. He didn't even offer to go halfsies.
One down.
They wandered down another branch of the Mall, and Daniel discovered a small bookstore at the end. Within minutes, he'd found a large, frightening-looking beast of a book. On a vivid orange background, bold black letters lauded, "Symmetry, Molecular Spectroscopy and Laser Engineering: Purposeful Applications for Advanced Students of Physics".
Jack's enthusiasm could easily be contained.
Two gifts bought and paid for.
But on an endcap in the store, right by the cook books and travel tomes, a display of calendars caught his eye. One in particular gave him an idea.
By the time Daniel had bought his book and had it wrapped, Jack decided he was ready to go. They left the Mall, and O'Neill dropped Teal'c back at the SGC on his way back home. He had some calls to make.
-OOOOOOO-
They took her to O'Malley's for dinner. She had a steak and a salad and her customary diet soda. She loved the knife and the book and pretended to be surprised when the wait staff appeared with a few candles on a cake singing an odd, rushed amalgamation of birthday tunes. O'Neill had paid for her meal.
And afterwards, when they'd poured Daniel into a cab with Teal'c, she turned to him and grinned.
"Thanks for a great birthday dinner, sir."
"It was nothing."
"Yes, well, with my dad gone and Mark being—Mark, it's nice to have people who care whether you have a good birthday."
O'Neill nodded and gave her half a smile. "Shall we?" At her shrug, he set off across the parking lot, and she walked easily beside him—her car was parked close to his.
As they neared his truck, he stopped. "You know, I did get you a present."
"I thought dinner was the gift. You didn't have to do anything at all."
"Yes, well, it was too big to wrap."
Her eyes wide, she glanced at the truck, where a tarp obscured a large shape in the bed. "Sir?"
"Go on."
She handed him her jacket and, putting a foot on the back bumper, vaulted herself easily over the edge. Glancing back at him suspiciously, she lifted the tarp.
She instantly grinned. "Holy Hannah—sir—is this—" She threw the tarp back to reveal a 1940 Indian motorcycle, identical to the one she already had. It was rusty, and one of the fenders had considerable damage. The seat had long since been lost, and both handlebars were crunched beyond recognition. But the original headlamp dangling from the front was still in great shape, and the gas tank miraculously had avoided being dented. And most importantly—
"The speedometer. Holy—Sir—Colonel. I don't know what to say." Her eyes were bright even in the dark of the night. "It's completely intact. You just don't find those in this good of condition. Where—" She stood up straight, looking adoringly at the bike as if it were a lover. "Sir—I don't know what to say."
"Then don't say anything."
"How did you know?"
"I figured you could use it for parts." He nodded towards it. "I heard Siler say something about how you were having a hard time finding certain original things."
"Yeah—headlamp, speedometer—it's tough to find the 130 speedometer. I'm—" She looked down at him, still grinning.
Suddenly, she placed a hand on the tailgate of the truck and jumped to the ground. She was close—breathing hard with a mixture of excitement and nerves. He could feel her trembling.
"Thank you." Her eyes caught some light from the restaurant and he could see something—indefinable—within them. "I know how hard it is to find these."
"Yeah, well, I know a guy."
Without warning, she closed the distance and pressed herself to him, one arm rounding up and over his shoulder, her other arm twining around his neck, her hand finding itself tangled in the hair at his nape. She touched her cheek to his, hugging still tighter when his arms wrapped themselves around her.
"Thank you." Her breath stirred the close cropped hair near his ear.
He closed his eyes and gave in to it. Reveling, just a bit, in the feel of her, the heat of her. Hell--just losing himself in her. "Happy Birthday, Sam."