Ya Think?
Or… The Ramifications of Eavesdropping and Conclusion Jumping-To as Learned (the hard way) by a Certain Well Loved Trouble Magnet and an Equally Loved Anthropuppy.
Yes…the Trouble Magnet should know better by now about the eavesdropping, but what fun would that be?
Can someone define “ramification” for Jack?
For purposes of this story, and with no further explanation, Jack O’Neill and Jim Ellison are old friends.
This is the standard disclaimer. They don't belong to me. This story is not intended to violate any copyrights held by Showtime/Viacom, MGM/USA, Double Secret Productions, Gekko Productions, Paramount, UPN, or Pet Fly Productions. No copyright infringement is intended.
Thank you to Amethyst for allowing me to play in both her Father Figure and Paternal Instincts universes.
Thanks to Loopy for beta-ing.
http://www.arkwolf.com/caillechsite/index.html
Dear Readers…I’d really like to explain to you how this story came about, but that would entail trying to recount to you the sleep-deprived, 3AM ramblings and nattering of a trip to the ‘Spacepixell Zone’, which is similar to, but not entirely the same as, the ‘Sandburg Zone’ and would, I fear, ensure that I would be dragged away to live out my fanfic writing days from within the confines of a softly-padded room. So…believe it or not, this story was ‘inspired’ by a visit to the following website: http://www.turtlepaddle.com/paddles.htm
Oh! One more thing…Happy Birthday Spacey!!
^^^^^
Blair was not eavesdropping.
He wasn’t. He wasn’t. He wasn’t. He wasn’t. He wasn’t.
Okay. Not true.
He was. He was. He was. He was. He was.
But it wasn’t his fault.
Okay. That wasn’t true either, because by definition, to eavesdrop means: To listen secretly to the private conversation of others.
Which is what he was doing, only how private was the conversation if it was being held right outside his room?
Blair cracked one sleep-heavy eye open and peered blearily at the clock on his nightstand.
Six-oh-seven A.M.
Six-oh-seven A.M. on a Sunday morning and Jim was standing right outside his room having a phone conversation.
Jim was having a phone conversation with someone named Jack, which Blair was or wasn’t, depending on his skewed logic at six-oh-seven A.M. on a Sunday morning, eavesdropping on.
The fact that the parts of the conversation that he could hear were entirely one-sided, involving a subject that he could only jump to conclusions about because he was only hearing parts of the conversation and only one side of it, was beside the point. He didn’t like what he was hearing.
“Jack? Hi…yeah, Jim here.”
“Fine. You?”
Soft chuckling.
“Tell me about it.”
“I wanted to let you know I looked up that website you recommended and it has exactly what I’m looking for.”
More chuckling.
“I know. I never knew there could be so many choices and so much involved in buying a paddle. It explains how to choose the right shape and length for maximum effect. It even tells you how to grip it correctly so that you don’t wear out your upper arm and shoulder muscles when paddling.”
There were a few moments of silence before the bizarre conversation resumed.
“There’s one called a Guide Paddle.” There was that damn chuckling again. “I’m going to go with that one. Besides having all the features I want, I like the name."
“Why? Oh…no reason.”
“Uh huh. Yeah, I’m going to order it later today. I’ll let you know how it works out.”
“Okay…sorry again for calling so early but I never know when’s a good time to reach you these days.”
“Right.”
“Bye.”
Now, honestly, if you were an impetuous, be-bopping ball of chaos that already had a list of rules a mile long that you had a hard time staying out of trouble for and you spent a good portion of your young life staring at the floorboards of the loft while your unprotected bare butt was spanked by an overly-protective father figure, what conclusions would you draw from that conversation?
See? That’s what Blair thought, too.
^^^^^
Seven-oh-seven A.M. (Mountain Time) on a Sunday morning and Jack was having a damn phone conversation with someone named Jim.
O’Neill had become Daniel’s self-appointed paternal influence in the little SG1 family unit that had formed around the need to curb their youngest member’s impetuous, reckless, disobedient behavior.
It was a duty that Jack had decided to take very seriously and follow through with in an old fashioned, time-honored, traditional way.
Spanking.
Daniel groaned as he pulled himself upright in bed and glanced at his clock. Damn. Jack was always so damn insistent that the young archeologist get enough rest; and now when that was exactly what Daniel was trying to do, the infuriating older man was having a damn phone conversation at seven-oh-seven A.M.!
Daniel decided to eavesdrop.
Eavesdrop?
Yeahsureyoubetchaeavesadrop.
Damn straight.
If Jack was going to have a damn phone conversation at this time of the morning, Daniel had no problems with the ‘it’s a private conversation’ thing.
“I’m good, too. Busy as hell.”
Chuckling.
“Great. I checked out several different paddle websites and this one was by far the best. Great selection.”
More chuckling.
“Be sure to look at the instructional section. Tells ya how to choose a paddle and the most effective way to use it.”
“You like the name?” There was that damn chuckling again. “Why?”
“Oooo-kaay. I’m going to order one, too. I plan on getting a lot of use out of it in the near future.”
“You do that. I’d like to compare notes.”
“No problem. I was up already. Old habits, you know.”
“Bye.”
Now, honestly, if you were a reckless, overly-curious young archaeologist who was constantly getting into trouble for not following orders as part of a top secret government unit dealing with intergalactic travel, and you just recently found yourself having to answer to an over-protective air force colonel by having your bare butt spanked, what conclusions would you draw from that conversation?
See? That’s what Daniel thought, too.
^^^^^
Hundreds of orders get called in to mail order places every day. A phone call is received, the order is placed and recorded, it’s sent off to be filled and shipped, a bill is sent to the collections department, etc., etc. You get the idea.
And every day people change their minds and call the mail order places back and cancel their orders. Wrong size, wrong color, it’s not really what they wanted, they found the same thing somewhere else, etc., etc. You get the idea.
So, when order #00056249 was placed on a Sunday morning at 11:12 A.M. PST and cancelled at 1:45 P.M. PST, it was no big deal. The order was cancelled, a notice was sent to the shipping and billing departments, etc. etc. You get the idea.
Same for order #00056275…different order/cancel times, of course.
No big deal.
Unless the persons canceling the orders are not the same persons who placed the orders.
You get the idea.
^^^^^
Jim was on the phone when Blair hurried into the loft. He tossed his keys toward the basket, missing by several inches, threw his backpack on the couch, detoured to the kitchen to grab a bottle of juice and headed toward his room. He had just stepped through the doorway when something Jim said caused him to spin around and walk back into the living room. He stopped a few feet from the couch and listened to Jim’s voice drift down from above. ‘Drift’ wasn’t exactly the right word. It was more like his voice bounced off the walls and ricocheted directly at Blair.
“I placed that order weeks ago. I was told that it would be shipped immediately.”
“What do you mean I cancelled the order? I would certainly know if I cancelled the order.”
Jim’s senses had registered his son’s arrival while Blair was still outside the loft and halfway up the stairs. He had been able to follow the youngster’s movements through the loft; zeroing in on his guide’s heartbeat was second nature to him. With one ear, he listened while the customer service representative on the other end of the line verified the cancellation request. With the other ear, he listened to the rapidly changing rhythm of Blair’s breathing rate.
“You’re sure? The order was cancelled the same day?”
The shallow, rapid breaths and quickening heart rate from below drew Jim’s attention. He peered over the railing to see his son standing frozen, obviously listening in on what Jim was saying. The sentinel easily recognized the telltale signs of his guide being caught in some sort of infringement of the ‘rules’. Based on the timing of when the changes were noted by Jim, it had something to do with this phone call.
“Do you have a record of the phone number from which the cancellation was made?”
The breathing and heartbeat sped up, though judging by Blair’s body language, the boy was trying to conceal it.
“Really? Hmmm. That’s odd. I must have been having a bad day. Look, I’m sorry for the confusion. I’d like to re-order if that’s okay.”
“Yes, all the information is the same. Yes. And could you put a rush on that order please? Thank you.”
Jim walked slowly and deliberately down the stairs. He plopped down on the loveseat and took a good long look at his son. Blair was nervously fingering the label on the juice bottle he held tightly clutched in one hand. All the signs were still there. Time to find out what the little shit had done.
“You want to tell me why you cancelled the order I placed for a paddle?”
Blair’s head shot up. No use trying to obfuscate his way out of this. Jim was taking the direct approach. Well, so would he.
“You’re kidding, right? You order a custom made paddle and you expect me to like it?” Hurt and defiance blazed in the deep blue eyes. “You think your hand or your hairbrush don’t get the job done?”
Everything fell into place. The order had been cancelled the same day it had been placed, and Jim hadn’t done it. The cancellation had come from their home phone number. Which meant Blair had cancelled the order. Which meant Blair had overheard Jim, either talking to Jack or placing the order. Either way, the kid had been eavesdropping and had jumped so far and so fast to a totally wrong conclusion that Jim’s head was spinning. And instead of talking to Jim about it, the kid had taken matters into his own hands.
“Oh, either gets the job done just fine. As you’ll find out in a minute, junior.” Cool light blue eyes met defiant dark blue eyes. “What I ordered was a custom made canoe paddle. For the camping trip we’re taking next month. We’ll be spending a lot of time in the canoe we’re borrowing from Joel, and the standard size paddles he has don’t work the best for me.”
“A c-canoe paddle? For c-canoeing? Not for…?”
Blair hung his head.
He trudged slowly over to where Jim sat. Blair placed the juice bottle on the coffee table and unbuttoned his jeans. He pushed his pants, along with his boxers, down past his knees and lowered himself over Jim’s waiting thighs.
“Rule number eleven…no eavesdropping. I broke rule number eleven.”
Blair’s backside quickly turned a rosy pink as Jim proved to his son that his hand was, indeed, all that he needed to ‘get the job done’.
^^^^^
Two days later…Cheyenne Mountain…SGC.
Daniel sat on the end of one of the long conference tables, ankles crossed and legs swinging merrily. Sandy brown bangs encroached upon the young man’s features; periodically being pushed away from his eyes as Daniel nervously adjusted his glasses. Past due for a haircut…way past due, by Jack’s military standards…the young archaeologist looked all of about twelve years old.
Colonel Jack O’Neill was pacing up and down the length of the room, a confused, quizzical look on his face. The older man was muttering to himself.
“I placed the order. The order is supposed to come to me. The order doesn’t come. I call to find out why the order doesn’t come. They say I cancelled the order. I didn’t cancel the order…I placed the order. The order is supposed to…”
The circular conversation continued unabated for roughly ten minutes, Jack apparently trying very hard to remember when the part about him canceling the order took place.
SG1’s youngest member watched in amusement, lips pursed, eyes set in a perpetual innocent look that was uniquely Daniel.
At the beginning of about, oh, the one-hundredth mumbled… ‘I placed the order’…Daniel broke in.
The innocent looking eyes squinted ever so slightly, Daniel’s nose crinkled just a touch and his head tilted a fraction of an inch. “Are ya sure you placed the order, Jack?”
“Not funny, Daniel.”
“I guess there musta been some kind of mix-up.”
“Ya think?”
Daniel shrugged his shoulders, hopped off the table, wandered over to another table and started shuffling through the papers that were strewn across its surface.
“Guess you won’t be getting a lot of use out of it in the near future…” The snide, childish sounding muttering was not uttered softly enough to escape Jack’s notice.
Ah-hah.
Think, Jack…ah-hah…why?
(It’ll come to Jack. Really. He’s just connecting the dots, so to speak.)
AH-HAH!
“Daniel? Why would you say that?”
“Say what, Jack?”
“Say… ‘I won’t be getting a lot of use out of it in the near future’?”
“Well, you won’t, will you? If they didn’t send it?”
“And why didn’t they send it?”
“I don’t know why, Jack.”
Having had enough trouble keeping up with the conversation he had just had with himself, Jack was not about to start another roundabout chat with Daniel.
“Daniel? Why did you cancel an order that I made for a canoe paddle?”
“I didn’t.”
“Yes, you did.”
“Did not.”
“Yes, you did. And now you’re lying to me about it.”
“Am not. Wait. Did you say canoe paddle?”
“Yeahsureyoubetcha.”
Jack was standing near the door, hands in his pockets, his eyes roaming casually around the room, weighing his options. Soundproof. No windows. His gaze settled on his jittery young charge. Yup…time to nip this sort of thing in the bud. He pulled one hand from its pocket, reached out and flipped the lock on the door.
Before young Dr. Jackson could muster a retort that would clear him from any sort of liability in the ordered/cancelled canoe paddle fiasco, he found himself bent over the table, nose to nose with SG4’s latest report on the artifacts found on PX3849.
Jack administered a quick, hard spanking to the squirming butt, along with a short lecture regarding what he thought about eavesdropping and lying. After landing the last well-placed swat, Jack pulled Daniel upright and into a hug.
Daniel caught his breath and hissed as the sting in his rear registered fully. An apology and assurances that this sort of thing would never happen again were sincerely offered and hastily accepted.
No one questioned why Daniel chose to stand through SG1’s mission briefing that afternoon. But Teal’c raised one eyebrow curiously and nodded in approval at a silent look that passed between himself and Jack.
^^^^^
Now, honestly, if you were a be-bopping ball of chaos or a reckless, overly curious archaeologist…this little episode would certainly have cured you of any desire to eavesdrop.
Ya think?
End.