The Shopping Trip
by Moonie
"Whose stupid idea was this anyway?"
It had become automatic now. O'Neill would spit out the accusation;
Daniel would parrot the answer.
"General Hammond's."
Hhhooooonnnnnkkkkkk. Tires slewed sideways with a whining protest as
early evening motorists jockeyed for place.
"And we were doing this why?"
Daniel's hands had lost feeling from gripping the seat cushion.
"Because the Organizational Committee..."
A white Toyota scooted across three lanes and cut off a maroon SUV with
a half inch safety margin, nearly taking O'Neill's left front fender
with it.
Daniel's fingers scrabbled for a tighter grip of leather cushion.
"...said it would benefit the field teams..."
A logging truck lumbered in front of O'Neill's jeep and then slowed to
80.
"...to spend time together in activities..."
With a tiny, irritated tick, the cruise control deactivated.
O'Neill flicked his headlights off and on, off and on.
"...other than combat situations."
"Right," O'Neill growled, edging closer to the rear of the lopsided
logging truck that still refused to relinquish the passing lane. "And
this is benefiting us how?"
Finally the logger tired of carrying the white jeep along in its
slipstream and hobbled back into the right hand lane. O'Neill's booted
foot eased onto the accelerator.
By now Daniel's eyes were closed and he was wondering if it was too late
to buy a St. Christopher statuette for the dashboard.
"Builds camaraderie, emphasizes teamwork and relieves stress."
"So, let me get this straight..." With a huff of satisfaction, O'Neill
clicked the cruise control back on for a total of four seconds until
another SUV veered into the lane in front of them, complete with 'My Kid
is an Honor Roll Student' bumper sticker. "...the four of us are going
into the woods, to fish, hunt, belch and grunt and scratch where it
itches, living off the land for three days to get away from what we
normally do? Do you see a bit of an oxymoron here, Daniel?"
"Jack, I think that was our exit." Daniel watched sadly as said exit
vanished in a fog of exhaust fumes.
"I know where I'm going, Daniel."
"Yeah, I know, Jack, we're going back to the exit we just missed. Maybe
we should stop and ask for directions."
O'Neill speared him with an annoyed glance. "I am a full bird colonel
of the flagship team of the Stargate Command, Daniel, I do not stop and
ask for directions."
Of course O'Neill had a Sam's Club membership. He hit the aisles, list
in hand, each item clearly specified according to store layout. He was
halfway down the coffee and tea aisle when he realized that his teammate
was MIA. Backtracking to the rice and spaghetti aisle, he found Daniel
in an animated conversation with a hospitality lady who was force
feeding him samples and descriptions of newly stocked items and
mentioning oh so casually that her lovely niece...
O'Neill swooped left and corralled the errant archaeologist, pushing the
cart back up to shopping speed ala O'Neill. Daniel's protests-"Jack,
you gotta try some of this. It's great-" were summarily silenced with
the reminder that they had a timetable to adhere to if they were going
to meet Sam and Teal'c who were presently filling out their own shopping
lists.
Oh, damn.
Books.
Not the book aisle. Too late. Daniel screeched to a halt in front of
an overflowing row of everything from Monica Lewinski's diet tips to
King Tut's tomb revisited.
Okay, Jack decided. Fall back and regroup. It was just a logistics
problem after all, nothing he couldn't handle. Plant Danny here in
front of his books and he would at least know where to find him after he
singlehandedly outfitted their trip. It was better that way, anyhow.
Daniel was a distraction waiting to happen and how much trouble could he
get into with his nose in a pile of books.
Free from babysitting duties, Jack managed to compile everything they
could possibly need for their forced outting and swung by the book
aisle to pick up his charge.
Books. Lots and lots of books. But not a single archeologist in sight.
A long and frustrating search through over-stocked shelves later, he
collared Jackson in the office supplies section where he was trying to
decide whether he had to have the 300 page journal or the set of color
coded booklets.
Oh, yeah, this was going to be a great day. Weekend, he corrected
himself. Three day weekend.
Coffee. Coffee seemed like a great idea. Hot, black, strong and
smelling of hickory. Dunkin' Donuts filled the need and even provided a
drive-thru. Shopping complete, a few days in the spring mountains of
upper Colorado waiting, O'Neill suddenly felt chummy.
"How about it, Daniel, want a cup? It just doesn't get better than
this."
Daniel took his time perusing the menu, then pointed to his choice.
"Which kind would you like, sir?" asked the perky little blonde with a
snap of her bubble gum.
"What kind do you have?"
Still feeling magnanimous, O'Neill waited it out.
"Chocolate, coffee or fruit." The blonde was taking a closer look at
her customer.
Another beat of time. O'Neill spared a quick glance at the dash clock.
Daniel leaned a little closer. "What kind of fruit?"
She popped her gum again, and beamed at him. "Berry, Cherry, Orange,
Mixed Fruit and Mango."
Wait for it, O'Neill groused silently.
"Mango sounds good."
Money changed hands. O'Neill stared into his cup of black coffee, then
at Daniel's unnaturally orange drink and shook his head. "You know
what?" he said with a resigned sigh, kicking the jeep into gear.
Daniel peered over at him, mushing his frosted drink with the bright red
straw. "What?"
"There's only one thing I hate worse than shopping."
"What's that?"
Brown eyes squinted sideways at him.
"Shopping with you."
"Well, you're no day at the beach."
"What did you say?"
"Nothing, Jack. Nothing at all."