Jack woke up naked, handcuffed, woozy, and from what little he could tell based on the cramped space and the deep spooky darkness, stuffed bodily into the trunk of a car (that's "boot" for the British readers out there).
Oh great, he thought irritably to himself, it's another one of THOSE stories. It was bad enough that a guy his age had to go saving the world on a regular basis as part of his day job, but to be put through all this suffering just to satisfy some author out there, when he could be home with a beer and a hockey game, was a real pain in the ass. His only consolation was that usually Daniel suffered more than he did - but even that wasn't really fair when he thought about it. Honestly, he grumped to himself, why couldn't Sam or Teal'c get their butts kicked once in awhile by some crazed loony with a keyboard and too much free time?
He was shaken out of his woozy musings by the sound of feet crunching on gravel, somewhere outside the car. Sounds were muffled - they do that if you're in a trunk (boot) but don't ask the author how she knows that - but he thought he could hear two women, apparently having a pretty heavy-duty argument. As if things weren't bad enough already, he thought. Now I've got incompetent kidnappers. Yeesh. The one upside to being in stories like these was that, if he thought something SUCKED, he was always allowed free rein to complain about it.
"He's mine and you CAN'T have him! I have a trout, don't MAKE me use it!" shrilled the first voice. He barely recognized it as the voice of the woman who had, apparently, darted him with tranquilizers, stripped him naked (and what was up with that, anyway?), and stuffed him into the trunk (boot). That was another thing that sucked! He always wound up getting the crap kicked out of him - HIM, a Special Ops-trained Air Force Colonel - by women who were half his size. It wasn't their being gorgeous babes that bugged him, it was the violation of most of the laws of genetics AND physics that really got his knickers in a knot. How, precisely, did she lift him into the car all by herself, anyway?
His woozy mind searched woozily for a name to put with that voice, but the other woman outside the car beat him to it. She did not sound impressed.
"Oh, please, Babs -"
"Don't say my name out loud," Babs cut her off, "he might hear you!"
Jack rolled his eyes and almost spoke, but the other woman beat him to it.
"Oh, please, BABS!! You might be the Evil Temptress, but *I* am the semi-retired Bitch Op From Hell! I don't fear you!"
Jack heard the wet sound of a trout slapping flesh. There was a scuffle, then a thud, and then more scuffling and the car rocked. Jack squirmed within the dark confines of the trunk (boot), apprehensive of the outcome. It seemed that the other woman might, maybe, possibly, just perhaps be an ally - but he'd heard of Babs of Holland, and knew what she was capable of. And that trout, well, that was just plain disturbing. He was disturbed, anyway.
After more scuffling sounds suggestive of a scuffle, there was the sound of a dart gun firing (he knew it well) and then a triumphant shout. "Ha-hah! I am Ozymandia! Look on my works, ye mighty, and despair!"
Outside the car, Ozy the Fearless and Really Impressive (pronounced "Ozy-free" for short), halted her happy dance, wiped the trout slime off her cheek, and got back down to business. She was here as the trusty and faithful companion of The Author, whose identity would NEVER BE KNOWN to Jack and Daniel, and by gosh by golly she was going to complete her mission no matter what. She had a naked and vulnerable (yet still very manly and virile) Jack to rescue.
Stuffing the dart gun fearlessly under her impressive jacket, Ozy-free looked down at Babs the Evil Temptress, sprawled on the ground unconscious and still managing to look like the sultry goddess that she was, and at the trout lying nearby. With the utmost caution, she nudged it away with her foot. It was crucial that Babs and that fish be separated from one another; the evil temptress was dangerous enough on her own, but with the trout, well, things could go from "bad" to "just plain wrong" far too quickly for comfort. Really, it was disturbing. Why would she prefer a trout to all other forms of weaponry, anyway?
Once the fish was nudged to a safe distance, Ozy felt much more fearless (and really impressive), and fearlessly went through Babs's pockets to get her car keys, yet inexplicably failed to snag anything else that looked like it might be useful, partly because she was wearing a jacket that had most of her supplies in it, and mainly because The Author forgot to plan that into the plot of the story. Besides, Ozy thought, she didn't need another Visa card.
Looking over her shoulder with caution but not fear, Ozy hopped fearlessly into the car and began to drive off. She felt a little badly about not opening the trunk (boot) to let Jack out, but Babs was known to have EYES EVERYWHERE - you couldn't be too careful dealing with her.
After some really impressive driving that unfortunately nobody actually got to see, Ozy-free pulled off into a deserted country lane in the middle of nowhere - how she got from the middle of the city to the middle of nowhere was both the really impressive part and the reason that no one got to see her. She was in the middle of nowhere, after all.
Looking over her shoulder, even though she was in the middle of nowhere (eyes everywhere, remember?) Ozy opened the trunk (boot) of the car. Before her, looking helpless and vulnerable in a really macho and manly and virile way, was Jack. He had circles under his eyes, his silver hair was mussed fetchingly, and his arms were locked behind his back with a pair of handcuffs. His legs were curled up tightly against his stomach, making Ozy and every other Jack fan out there want to give him a big hug and a warm fuzzy blanket.
Jack looked a little sick, and really pissed off, in a gorgeous, rugged sort of way. "Come on, for crying out loud, get on with the torture crap already - I can take you all on - I'll kick your asses!" Looking around dizzily, he quieted his heroic tirade. "Wait a second," he said huskily, his velvety chocolaty dark brown eyes shining in the fading sunlight, "where are the interrogators and bad guys and all that stuff?"
Ozy-free began to apologize, explaining about Babs and her eyes everywhere. She looked over her shoulder every time Babs's name was mentioned. "Sorry about that. This WAS originally going to be one of those fics, but a friend of mine and I decided that Babs would be a lot happier if she could get a snuggle-fic instead of a kidnapping fic. The only problem is that Babs doesn't realize that we're doing this for Babs's own good, so Babs is going to be pretty upset once Babs wakes up. And once Babs finds out where I hid her trout, well, things could get pretty disturbing. Babs has EYES EVERYWHERE, so Babs will be able to find us if we don't hurry."
"Eyes everywhere, huh? Is that why you keep looking over your shoulder?"
"You're saying it wrong," said Ozy. "It's EYES EVERYWHERE. And yes, that is why I'm looking over my shoulder. Not because I'm afraid or anything, I' m just being naturally cautious and stuff. You would do the same thing," she finished adoringly. She decided not to admit that it was also because she couldn't maintain eye contact with a naked, woozy, tied-up Jack for more than a few seconds without getting woozy herself.
Ozy helped the poor man and his aching knees out of the trunk (boot) of the car. Seeing that he was woozy and in need of support, she let him lean his long, lean, naked, rugged and virile body against her to steady him. Then she took a few deep breaths to steady herself. That was almost a mistake, because not only had she started getting the heat of his body seeping through her jacket, she was now inhaling that special manly scent that Jack only usually gave off in hot porno fics. She fearlessly and impressively resisted his charm, though she couldn't help but regret for a moment that this wasn't THAT kind of a story.
Ozy-free, the Fearless and Really Impressive, fished around inside her jacket for the handcuff keys. Before she could get even get them out of her pocket, though, she heard a car coming up the road. Damn, she thought to herself; that trout would come in handy right now. She looked up at Jack, leaning against her in manly wooziness. Jack looked at her, woozily. "To heck with this," she said after her eyes unglazed, "we've got to get out of here!" With that, she started running into the woods around them, leading Jack by the elbow.
It was slow going, since Jack was still handcuffed, still naked and barefoot, and still a little woozy from the tranquilizer darts, but Ozy was fearless, and really impressive, and the two of them made it to the little deserted whiskey-still in the woods without being seen. Ozy looked over her shoulder one last time, checking to see if any of Babs's minions were around, then opened the door and stepped inside.
"Wow," said Jack huskily, "pretty impressive."
"Thanks," said Ozy bashfully.
"I meant the interior," Jack said. He looked at Ozy with his dark chocolaty dark velvet dark brown eyes and smiled. "But you're pretty fearless, and that's impressive too." Ozy blushed and looked around. The Author had told her to bring Jack here but hadn't said a whole lot else. The inside of the whisky still was really quite modern - very modern - very, very modern, although it was deserted. In fact, behold, Ozy saw a blue glowing stone in the wall, which she pressed fearlessly. The transport rings dropped around her and Jack, whisking them away.
After the really nifty sound and lights faded, Jack and Ozy-free found themselves in a tasteful room, with soft carpet, nice walls, and a synthetic bearskin rug in front of a cheerful cozy fireplace. There was the sound of someone puttering in the kitchen. Ozy smiled, knowing who it was, then sighed wistfully. Do I have to give him up so soon, she thought. Jack was standing next to her looking very manly and heroic in all his naked glory. Ozy tore her eyes away from his chest hair with an effort, and decided it was time to unlock the cuffs.
Then she discovered her pants were missing. All the stuff that was in the pockets was now on the floor at her feet, including the keys to Jack's handcuffs. She bent down quickly to retrieve them - along with her wallet, there was no way she was trusting those two alone in a cabin with her Visa card - and hoped that Jack hadn't seen her blush. She didn't want to traumatize him, after all.
"Out of curiosity," Jack said huskily, "did you get these transport rings from the Tok'ra?"
"Why, yes, I think so," said Ozy-free. "How did you know?"
"The pants," he said. "Damn Tok'ra. You can't trust them, and I bet the tech support on these things is a bitch." Jack looked at Ozy-free with his dark chocolaty dark velvet dark brown eyes, secretly impressed by her fearlessness as she stood there right next to him with no pants and her Wonder Woman underwear showing.
Ozy suddenly looked surprised, then reached under her jacket and triumphantly pulled out a pair of fuzzy, cozy, warm, soft, comfy sweat pants and put them on. They had been for Jack originally, but there hadn't been time to give them to him when they were out in the woods, running slowly toward the abandoned but ultra-modern whisky still to make their escape.
Jack was little miffed to see that his rescuer had a spare pair of pants under her jacket the entire time, but he couldn't help being impressed with her creativity as well as her fearlessness. Just as she finished pulling on the sweats, Daniel walked into the room from the direction of the kitchen.
"I see the transport rings got another victim," he said with a smile.
"Hnggh," said Ozy and Jack in unison. Tossing the keys to Daniel, she tucked her wallet under her jacket and pulled out a vaguely Asgard-looking device. "Have a nice time," she managed to say in a strangled voice. Then she activated the device and vanished, leaving behind a naked, woozy, handcuffed Jack and a naked, comfy, holding-the-keys Daniel, both standing next to the synthetic bearskin rug by the fireplace, the light from the fire playing golden highlights against their skin. It was a real shame, Ozy thought before she vanished, that this wasn't supposed to be THAT kind of fic.
"So," said Daniel. "So," said Jack. "What do we do now?" Daniel smiled, and stepped toward his friend, handcuff keys dangling enticingly from one finger.
The vaguely Asgard-looking device did its thing, and Ozy the Fearless and Really Impressive popped to find herself sitting next to The Author, whose identity would NEVER BE KNOWN by the two naked men she and Ozy had rescued. The Author handed Ozy a pint, and the two brave, sneaky, fearless, impressive, and overall nifty women began to discuss how generous they were to have not taken advantage of the situations they each had encountered. With a smile, they both put their feet up and began to watch on closed circuit TV (telly for you British readers) as Jack and Daniel, Daniel and Jack, curled up together in front of the fireplace.
|Genres:||Action/Adventure, Badfic, Humor, Hurt/Comfort|
|Summary:||The Author has rescued Daniel, and it's up to her trusty sidekick to save Jack.|
Author's Chapter Notes:
Bad fic. As in "bad, bad, fic! Go sit in the corner and think about what you just did!" Not for the lactose intolerant: this story is cheesy enough to qualify as a dairy product. Slight hints of slash, but none, really.