Author's note: Here is my first-ever Stargate Christmas story. I'll
warn you, it doesn't meet the designs of any of the Christmas
challenges, but I'd really enjoy it if you read it anyway.
Category: HolidayFic, Humor
Pairings: Oh, yeah. Definitely Sam/Jack. A very brief mention of
Daniel/Janet
Rating: PG13
Season: 7 onward
Spoilers: None
Archive: Samandjack, heliopolis, jackfic. Anybody else, please ask,
but you'll get permission.
Summary: The Christmas party for the children's hospital ward turns
interesting
Disclaimer: None of this belongs to me, I know it, and the only
profit I'm getting from it is enjoyment. Please don't sue me.
Feedback: Please??? Pretty please with a sugarplum on top?
I can't believe Janet talked us all into this. I mean yes, I know
that each year, one of the military divisions in the area does it, but
I somehow always figured the SGC wouldn't come up for the rotation,
being a secret government agency and all. Apparently, Janet didn't
see any reason we shouldn't take our turn at hosting the Christmas
party for the Children's ward of the base hospital, and, knowing that
our little division had never done it, she volunteered us. Not that
the idea of seeing Jack dressed up like the biggest Christmas elf in
existence - the man in the red suit himself - doesn't appeal to me,
but . . . Okay, I admit it. I'd much rather be nestled into my little
house or Jack's big house, having dinner by candlelight and putting up
Christmas decorations. See, nobody knows it yet, but he and I have
been together for some time now. Yes, it's against regulations, but
we've decided that we just don't care. This is more important, and
since we know that we can do our jobs without our personal life
interfering, they'll only find out if we tell them. Or if they come
looking, which they won't.
Oh, I suspect that Daniel and Teal'c know - that's no big deal,
though. I know they'll keep our secret. And I told Jonas in our last
communiqué. He's become a great confidante since he's left, and
writing back and forth helps me miss him all the less. He's like the
little brother I never had. He tells me about the girls he dates on
Kelowna, and I keep him up to date on everybody here. He asks about
Janet a lot, now that I think about it; he may have developed a bit of
a crush on her when she took care of him during that whole business
with the tumor. They both know that it's pretty common, so I hope
they don't let it interfere with their friendship.
The one saving grace about this whole Christmas-party thing is that
she dubbed Jack to play Santa, which is something I wouldn't trade
seeing for all the tea in China. He has such a whimsical personality
sometimes, if he could only channel it into something like this,
instead of nearly getting himself or us into trouble, he might be a
General by now.
Over the years, it's never ceased to amaze me what a paradox Jack
O'Neill is. On one side, deadly warrior trained in all the most top
secret methods of secret ops, and on the other hand, he's all
mischievous teenager, with a smart remark always hot on the tip of his
tongue and a toy at the tips of his fingers. He's unique, and I thank
God for him every day. And, naturally, every night.
So here we stand, in the middle of a large room of small children in
varying degrees of illness or injury. It's sad to see them stuck here
at Christmas time, but they don't let it dampen their spirits.
They're all gathered around, waiting for Jack - I mean Santa - to make
his ho-ho-ho-ing appearance. I hope we've got enough gifts to go
around - there's more kids here than we anticipated.
"You owe me for this one," Daniel says to Janet out the side of his
mouth. "I was up until 3:30 am wrapping presents. My fingers are
covered in paper cuts from wrap and ribbons."
"Well, we'll just have to see if we can make you feel a little better
later tonight." She says it with a lascivious grin and a wink.
Daniel and Janet haven't been as secretive as Jack and I when it comes
to the status of their relationship.
Peppered in with the children are other members of the SGC, all
looking like they're having a great time. Lt. Simmons, Sgt.Davis, and
Sgt. Siler are all wearing silly-looking Santa hats, for which I
believe Teal'c is responsible. He gave me one earlier, but I'll be
darned if I'm putting it on.
"Major Carter," he says, arriving just as I'm trying to find a place
to ditch the thing. "Are you not joining in the Christmas spirit?"
"Of course I am, Teal'c," I say, knowing that I'm blushing because
I've been caught without a good excuse. "I was just always partial to
reindeer antlers," I joke, and he smiles as if he understands. I
wonder if he really does.
"Maybe it's time to do a bit of entertaining until you-know-who
finally decides to make an appearance," Daniel says, glancing at his
watch.
"What do we do to entertain this many kids clamoring for Christmas
presents?" Janet asks as if she doesn't have a daughter of her own.
Of course, said daughter is too old for such juvenile things as this,
she'll be quick to remind you.
"How about a sing-along?" Daniel volunteers.
"Sure!" I agree. I don't have much of a voice, but these kids are
hardly looking for O Holy Night.
The four of us, Teal'c included, make our way to the front of the
room, where, on a small, raised platform sits the chair that Santa
Jack will eventually occupy. For now, it's our way of getting the
kids attention.
Just by the sheer concept that we're standing there, the kids quiet
down and their attention is centered on us. I take a deep breath,
hope for the best, and we begin.
"While we're waiting for our special guest," Daniel says with a smile,
"we thought we'd introduce ourselves. My name is Daniel." Just as he
said this, Teal'c appeared from behind and pulled a Santa cap down
over his head, making the children roar with laughter. Teal'c's comic
timing had come a long way over the years.
I take the microphone from him while he tries to remove the hat at
least enough to see. "This is Doctor Janet. You probably know her,
because she works here."
I see recognition on many of their faces, and a small girl waves to
Janet, who is beside me. "This is Teal'c, and over there is Graham,
and Walter, and you can just call the tall guy 'Sly.' And I'm Sam."
I hear giggling from the crowd at that, and I'm sure I know why.
"What's so funny about that?" I ask with a smile.
One tiny girl stands up from the front of the crowd. "You're a girl,
but you have a boy's name!" She giggles again, and I just can't get
over how adorable that is.
"Well, my real name is Samantha, but I use Sam for short. What's your
name?"
The little girl smiles and announces, "Cathy! But sometimes, when I'm
bad, Mommy calls me Catherine."
"That's exactly the same thing, then. You have a long name, so they
make it shorter and easier by calling you Cathy." She beams at the
idea that we have a common link, and smiles proudly at those around
her.
"Now that you know all of us," I say, "how about we sing some
Christmas songs! Maybe Santa will hear them and come sooner!"
All the kids cheer, and we begin to lead them in Santa Claus is Coming
to Town, Up on the House Top, and then Jingle Bells. When it's over
and there's still no sign of Jack, I lean toward Daniel while Janet
introduces Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer.
"Go find out where he is!" I instruct, giving him no opportunity to
rebel. He disappears into the crowd, and I see the swinging doors of
the solarium move, signifying his departure.
Moments later, the doors swing again, and a jolly, "Ho ho ho!" sets
the crowd to squealing. I jump down, only too eager to surrender the
"stage" to our own personal Santa Claus.
I'm constantly amazed at how good Jack is with kids. He was born to
be a father, and I fantasize for a moment on what it'll be like when I
make him one again sometime in the future. It'll be awhile, but we
both definitely see it. We've had 'The Talk,' not formally, but
seriously enough that we both know where we're headed.
I know for sure that I can't see myself with anybody else, ever. Why
should I settle for second best?
A line has formed in front of Santa, where he's lifting a little boy
onto his knee. The costume is really impressive; I'd never guess
that's Jack up there if I didn't know better. But between the beard,
mustache and the glasses, he's completely disguised. I'll bet even
Cassie wouldn't recognize him.
My attention is dawn southward, where somebody is tugging on my jeans
leg. I look down and see the small face of Jennifer, a girl of about
five who had climbed into my lap earlier. She'd been orphaned in a
car accident a week or so before, but has several good relatives ready
to take her in. Still, there's a forlorn quality to her that just
tugs at my heart strings.
"Yes, sweetheart?" I ask. I can't believe that I, rough and tough Air
Force major, used the word 'sweetheart.'
"Are you gonna sit on Santa's lap, Sam?"
"No, honey," I tell her, thinking of all the evil things I could do in
that particular lap.
"But Sam!" She exclaims. "You hafta sit on Santa's lap, or you won't
get what you want for Christmas."
"Jen, sweetie, that only works for kids. Santa doesn't really bring
presents to grownups."
"He would to you, though. I know he would!" she exclaims with such
strong faith. "My Mom says that Santa loves everybody! She says . .
." The tears fill her eyes and overflow, dripping down her cheeks as
she realizes she was talking about her deceased Mother. I can relate.
"I'm sure she's right," I concede, squatting beside her so we're on
the same eye level. "I just don't think that Santa will be bringing
me anything this year."
"Have you been bad?"
I know I'm blushing now. "Let's just say that I haven't been as good
as I probably should be."
Somehow, the inquisition is making me uncomfortable, and I need to get
out of here. "Look, you'd better get in line, and I'm going to go to
the bathroom."
"You're coming back, aren't you?"
"Of course I am," I reassure, kissing her little fingers before I
leave the room. Why did that little girl's innocent questions make me
so skittish?
I spend probably ten minutes in the bathroom, first taking care of
business and then splashing water over my face. It doesn't seem to
stop the crimson from rising to my cheeks every time I think of my . .
. . boyfriend just seems so trite, but for lack of a better term . . .
boyfriend in that red suit. Oh, my God. Do I have a Santa fetish?
Chuckling to myself at the ridiculousness of that concept, I use a
scratchy paper towel to dab the water from my face and exit the
restroom with my composure intact for the moment.
By the time I return to the solarium, the line has been drastically
reduced, and many of the kids are happily unwrapping the toys we
brought to distribute. Apparently, Jennifer's been talking to several
of her new friends, because as I come through the door, I'm grabbed by
the arms on both sides.
"C'mon, Sam. You're gonna sit on Santa's lap," a small boy of about
nine says as I'm dragged towards the dais. I look up and see "Santa"
smiling, obviously enjoying my predicament. You think this is funny,
Jack? We'll see just who has the last laugh, I think to myself.
"Okay, kids, I'll go. I'll go!"
They release me, and I approach him, knowing that the grin on my face
is anything but innocent, but since there is nobody behind or beside
him any longer, I know the look is just between the two of us.
"Hi, little girl," he says to me with a jolly laugh. The rest of the
room and its occupants fade away as I make the step up to him and
settle myself in his lap. I decide this is going to be fun.
"Hi, Santa," I say in my best sultry voice, low enough so only the two
of us can hear.
"What would you like for Christmas?" he asks me, sounding so much like
Santa, it's amazing.
"Oh, I have a lot of things I'd like for Christmas," I say, settling
myself more firmly on his lap, squirming in a way I know he loves. In
a way that'll definitely get a reaction. "Most of all, though," I
say, drawing close and whispering in his ear, "I'd like to take you
home and take off that red suit myself, revealing all of you that's
hiding underneath it. I want to undress you until you stand naked
before me, and I want you to do the same to me. I want to lead you
out onto that wonderfully private deck of yours and make love to you
underneath the stars until neither of us can stay awake and we've been
up way past time for the real Santa to come. I want to find you under
my tree every Christmas, clothing optional, of course, until we're
both old and wrinkled and our kids are wheeling us around in
wheelchairs."
His eyes, as I've given him my own Christmas list, have grown large
and round, and he's obviously stunned into silence. His having no
idea what to say is amusing me to no end. I look into his eyes,
expecting to see the warmth of love in the chocolate brown depths.
It's my turn to be shocked as I notice that I'm being greeted by blue
ones instead.
A familiar voice is calling my name, and I'm not sure how long I've
sat here in shock, my mind spelling out to me what's actually
happening. I turn my head, and there, amongst the crowd, standing
beside Daniel and Teal'c, is none other than Colonel Jack O'Neill.
I'm mortified! What I just said . . .
And then there's another voice, this time from much closer. "If you
don't mind, Major," says the unmistakable voice of General Hammond, "I
think Colonel O'Neill, you, and I had better take this conversation
somewhere else.
It was said loud enough that Jack heard, too, and our eyes meet as I
rise and "Santa" leads us both from the solarium.
Some time later, we stand before the General, who has shed the Santa
suit and is back in uniform. We've explained the situation as
honestly as we can; given the circumstances, lying would be of little
use we've both decided.
He's given us a lecture on discretion, making it clear that he
approves of us, and will turn a blind eye as long as we continue to
operate as we always have: professionally. I, for one, was shocked,
but pleasantly so.
Off the hook, we both breathe a sigh of relief. I'm still
embarrassed, though, at the personal things the General heard from my
own lips. It's tantamount to having my Dad hear such things, since
the General is very much a father figure for all of us.
"May I ask one question, Sir?" I finally screw up my courage to ask.
It's hardly appropriate, but I just have to know.
"Permission granted, Major."
"Sir, why were . . . how did . . . why did you . . ."
"Major. . ."
"Sorry, Sir. Why were you the one in the Santa outfit? The plan was
for Colonel O'Neill to be Santa."
Jack stepped in at that point, his voice gentle, trying to explain.
"I didn't get a chance to tell you, but the kids were all screaming
for Santa, and we were already behind schedule and . . ."
"And the suit wouldn't fit him," the General finishes with a smile.
"Even with a pillow, Jack just couldn't get the suit to look
convincing on him, so I told him I'd stand in. Nobody knew until Jack
came into the solarium, just about the time you had your little visit
with Santa."
I know I'm blushing again; I may as well stop fighting it. "Once
again, General, I'm really sorry," I say sincerely. And not just
because we got caught or because we're embarrassed. I feel better
knowing that this man that we trust knows the truth.
"Apology accepted, Major," he says with a smile. "Now if I may, I'd
like to recommend that you both go home. I think you have quite a few
gifts to prepare, Colonel." Jack looks at him, puzzled. "I'm sure
the Major will be happy to give you some ideas," he winks at me.
Jack still seems a little puzzled, and whispers, "What did you say to
him?" out of the corner of his mouth as we turn to go.
Now I know I'm blushing again.
"Oh, Jack," Hammond calls before we can leave the room.
"Yes?" Jack turns back to him.
"Maybe you'd better take this with you." He tosses a bundle at Jack,
who catches it adeptly.
"General?" he questions. The way it's gathered and covered in a bag,
we can't see what it is.
"Just take it. You and Major Carter may have use of it later on. Now
go home." He waves a hand, shooing us from the hospital room he'd
commandeered for our little discussion. I presume it's the same one
he'd use to change into Santa to begin with.
Taking the orders of our superior, we leave the room, not stopping
until we're outside the building.
"Phew," Jack says with a smile. "That wasn't exactly how I'd imagined
him finding out, but . . ."
"But at least he seems okay with it." Our eyes lock, and we're
suddenly embracing. We know it can't last, and pull away moments
later. "But what's in the sack?"
Jack breaks the seal on the bag, smiling as he takes in the contents.
"When we get home, you definitely have to tell me what you said to
him."
He displays the interior of the bag to me, and there, nestled in a
neat pile, is the Santa suit.
"What does it mean?" he asks.
"It means that Santa's gonna bring me what I want for Christmas," I
laugh, pecking him on the cheek before I run away to gather the snow
in my hands. I'm already to the parking lot by the time he catches up
to me, a melting snowball dripping down his neck.
"You'll get what you want, all right," he says with a look that starts
a slow burn in my belly. "Your house or mine?"
"Your house, my car," I say, just as eager to get out of here as he
is. As I pull out of the parking lot, Jack opens his window, calling
out.
"Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night!"
The End
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