For Colonel Jack O’Neill, stalwart leader of SG-1, PR5-48T would forever be The Panty Planet. Not because of anything they found there, but because the entire mission from start to finish seemed to revolve around underwear. Some of it was damn fine underwear, too. Jack should know. He still had a pair of Daniel’s BVD’s hidden away.
Daniel seemed fidgety as he and Jack waited in the Gateroom for Carter and Teal’c to join them. He kept dragging one hand over his butt, shifting his feet and adjusting his BDU pants. Twice he took a deep breath as though he was going to say something then didn’t.
Jack couldn’t stand it any more. He had to know. “Daniel,” he inquired mildly, “is there something wrong?”
Daniel hesitated then asked, “Jack, can you see my underwear through my BDU’s?”
Jack glanced down even though he already knew the answer because he’d been staring at that butt ever since, well truthfully even before, Daniel had started fidgeting. Still it couldn’t hurt to check again. Besides, for once he’d been invited to check it out. “Nope. Why?”
Daniel blushed. “Well when I walked past the infirmary, two of the nurses were looking at me and I swear I heard them whispering about ‘boxers or briefs. I’d hate it if my underwear showed.” Daniel leaned forward a bit, “How about now?”
Jack look intently at the very faint visible panty line now revealed. “Nope.” He kept staring.
“Are you sure? Because the nurses guessed right.” Daniel looked anxious. It was a good look on him. Then again, Jack thought everything looked good on Daniel. He like Happy Daniel, Chatty Daniel, Decisive Daniel, Indecisive Daniel, Sleepy Daniel, Snippy Daniel, and even Pissy Daniel. His current all time favorite, though, was Stoned Out Of His Gourd On Pain Meds Daniel.
Just like the nurses, Jack could guess right, too, because Jack was there when Daniel changed. Sadly, he never really got to watch Daniel change and if he couldn’t ogle Daniel’s perfect backside, he certainly didn’t want anyone else doing it. Stupid nurses. However, they had given him the perfect opportunity. “Maybe if the fabric were a little tighter.”
Daniel knelt on the floor, put his hands on his thighs and bent over slightly. “How about now?”
Jack spent a long time looking at the ass in question and the now very noticeable line. Damn, it was getting warm in here. Very warm. Tingly even. Daniel looked back at him, and Jack remembered he was waiting for an answer. “Oh, ummm…I’m not sure. Put your hands on the floor in front of you.” Daniel complied and Jack’s breathing went into overdrive. Before he could hyperventilate he gathered enough breath to say “Okay, now drop your weight to your elbows, look back at me, lick your lips and pout.”
“What?” Daniel tilted his head the way dogs do when they’re puzzled.
Oh damn. Dogs. Daniel still on all fours. Dogs. Don’tthinkit-Don’tthinkit-Don’tthinkit-Don’tthinkit.
Teal’c loomed up beside Jack before the phrase ‘doggy style’ could make its way from Jack’s brain to more important parts of his body. Carter entered the room right behind Teal’c. They took one look at Daniel and then both of them glared at Jack. They had no idea what was going on, but they knew it wasn’t good and that Jack was to blame. Getting glared at was bad enough, but Teal’c followed it up with a low growl and suddenly Jack didn’t feel all warm and tingly anymore. Ice water had nothing on Teal’c as a mood killer.
Clearing his throat nervously, Jack looked at Teal’c as he answered Daniel. “Ummm…nothing Daniel. Your underwear is fine.” Just then the Stargate engaged with a loud kawoosh. Whew! “Okay, time to go!”
Jack damn near sprinted up the ramp and into the wormhole. His team followed at a more leisurely pace.
Technically, Jack spent the day watching Daniel root around the ruins. In reality, he spent the day leaning against the entry way, covertly staring at Daniel’s backside, watching the line of his underpants appear and disappear. Daniel bent over to check out an inscription – panty line. Daniel walked over to the other wall – no panty line. Line. No line. Line. No line. Jack was mesmerized.
Jack flinched when the radio blared, smacking the back of his head against the wall. He rubbed the sore spot with one hand and keyed the mic with the other. “Yeah, T. What’s up?”
“Major Carter and I have finished the preliminary survey. We shall now return to camp for the evening.”
“Roger, Big Guy. We’ll be there as soon as I can pull Rock Boy away from his playground. O’Neill out.”
Dinnertime already. My how time flies when you’re having fun. Jack helped Daniel gather up his tools and they headed out. As they walked, Jack ruminated on what a pleasant mission he was having. The weather was great, nobody attacked them, he’d spent the day staring at Daniel’s butt and, best of all, Daniel hadn’t noticed.
“Jack,” said Daniel, “I noticed you looking at my butt all day. Could you see the outline of my underpants?”
Crap. So much for covert observation. Apparently Jack needed a refresher course in Sneaking a Peek 101. Now, how to salvage this? Ah yes. The old half-truth. An oldie but a goodie.
“To be perfectly honest, Daniel, I could tell how much it bothered you, so while you worked I checked the situation for you. I’m afraid I have to tell you that, at times, you do have what the ladies refer to as Visible Panty Lines or VPL.”
“Oh, no. Really? I do?”
Uh-oh. Jack was faced with Crestfallen Daniel. This Daniel always pushed Jack’s “kiss it and make it better” buttons. Since Jack couldn’t kiss him, he learned many other ways to cheer up Daniel. Once, when the exciting ruin on the MALP footage that had Daniel bouncing around the SGC for days before the mission turned out to be an incredibly boring pile of rocks, Jack had been desperate enough to resort to puppetry. Those socks would never be the same and while he hadn’t exactly cheered Daniel up, he certainly had distracted him as Daniel had hovered next to him the whole way back to the gate, checking his forehead for fever every five minutes and asking “How many fingers am I holding up now?” until Jack was seriously tempted to smack him.
Jack figured he’d start with something simple this time. “It could be worse,” he joked. “You could have visible panty lines and not be wearing any.”
“I guess,” sighed Daniel.
“Say, that’s an idea.” Jack knew he was being bad, but he couldn’t help it. The thought of having one less layer between his eyeballs and Daniel’s behind was too tempting to pass up.
“What’s an idea?”
“You can’t have VPL if you don’t have the P.”
“I don’t have to pee? What?”
“I’m just saying, the only way to be sure your underwear doesn’t show is not to wear them in the first place.”
“But wouldn’t that be uncomfortable?”
“Nah, military guys do it all the time. That’s why it’s called Going Commando. It’s a sure sign of being a Rugged Man of Action.” Daniel looked doubtful. “Why not just try it. In fact, you could take ‘em off now. If you change your mind by the time we get to camp, just put ‘em back on.” Daniel still hesitated so Jack hit him with a key word. “Think of it as research.”
Ahhhhh, that got him Curious Daniel. Time for a little patience. Wait for it…wait for it…
“I guess it couldn’t hurt to try,” conceded Daniel.
YES! Inside, Jack did a little happy dance.
Daniel ducked behind a nearby bush that hid him up to the shoulders. He dipped out of sight to unlace his boots. Pretty soon, his BDU pants were draped across the bush, quickly followed by his briefs. A flash of color on the white cotton caught Jack’s eye. Without thinking, he picked up Daniel’s underwear. Stenciled in green on the inside of the waistband next to the tag were the initials D.J. Next to the initials was a little yellow happy face. It was a particularly cheerful little smiley face. Jack thought he’d look that cheerful too, if he got to see what it did all day. As he checked out the initials he frowned. Why was he looking at initials and a smiley face?
“Daniel? Why do you have your initials in your underwear? And what’s with the smiley face?”
Daniel wiggled back into his pants. “I know the smiley face isn’t regulation like the initials, Jack but Sergeant Mallone said it was for good luck. You’re not going to get the Sergeant in trouble are you?” Daniel ducked down to put his boots back on.
Jack froze in place. The little smiley face seemed to be taunting him now. “Would that be Sergeant Pamela Mallone in the Motor Pool or Sergeant Karl Mallone in Supply?”
“That’s him. He’s the one that checks the fit of my uniforms each month. He’s very particular about having the proper fit for undergarments. Last time it took him hours just to check the fit of the three dozen pairs of briefs assigned to me. He says there’s no point in having a uniform that fits if you’re just going to put it over underwear that doesn’t.”
Jack’s hand clenched on the smiley face, squashing the smug yellow bastard. The SGC was going to be short one Sergeant the minute SG-1 got back to base. The only question was whether Mallone would be stationed at McMurdo until important bits fell off due to frostbite or whether Jack would need a shovel. Either way, no one was going to touch Daniel’s ass again but Jack. He stood there, rolling the smooth cotton around in his hand, daydreaming of the many ways to incapacitate, eviscerate, decapitate and otherwise royally f--k up a certain Sergeant. He was miles away, lost in thought, a little half smile on his face.
“Jack!” exclaimed Daniel.
Shit! Jack shoved the underpants into the cargo pocket on his pants. He couldn’t believe he’d been fondling Daniel’s underpants with Daniel right on the other side of that flimsy bush. He looked over at Daniel ready to brazen it out – only to find that Daniel wasn’t looking at him. Daniel was looking at the bush where his underpants used to be.
“Where’s my underwear?” He stepped around to Jack’s side of the bush, peering under it in case they had fallen off.
Daniel hadn’t caught him. Daniel had no idea. Daniel looked to him for answers. “Jack? What happened to my underwear?”
Jack could feel the briefs burning a hole in his leg through the heavy fabric of the BDU’s. All he had to do was reach in, pull them out, and tell Daniel he had put them there for safekeeping. It was a plausible scenario. He opened his mouth to speak and heard himself blurt out “CHIPMUNKS!”
Daniels eyebrows swooped up to his hairline. “Chipmunks?” He blinked a few times.
Chipmunks? “Yes,” Jack declared confidently, “chipmunks.” What the hell was he thinking?
“What, um, what about chipmunks?”
“Chipmunks took your underpants.”
“How could a little chipmunk-“
“Big. They were big alien chipmunks and, uh, they travel in packs.”
“How come I didn’t see them?
“They were super speedy, like that little guy in the sombrero in the cartoons.”
“That’s a mouse.”
“Whatever. The point is your underwear is gone.”
Daniel shifted experimentally. “Those might be gone, but as soon as we get back to camp, I’m putting on a spare pair.”
Later that night the team sat around a cozy campfire eating dinner. Well, most of the team. Daniel had scarfed down his entrée while chattering about his findings, then headed out to the latrine. So far he’d been gone at least ten minutes. Jack made a mental note to have Dr. Frasier talk to him about the importance of roughage.
Jack had dibbsed the comfiest looking log and sat relaxing thinking that the only thing worse then having to eat Turkey Tetrazini MRE was having to eat it out of the plastic bag. The chemical heaters never got the temperature right either. One spoonful would be hot enough to peel the skin off of the roof of your mouth. The next spoonful would be a gluey lukewarm mass. It had no flavor but it did help stop the blisters from the hot spoonful. The trick was not to get two boiling spoonfuls in a row. Dang it. A little tetrazini slopped on his shirt.
Jack reached into the cargo pocket on his pants for the packet of tissues he carried for Daniel. As he pulled the packet out, something else came with it and plopped onto the ground. Something white with the initials DJ stenciled into the band next to a happy face. Jack had the tissues in one hand and his MRE in the other. Before he could put one of those down, he saw Teal’c’s large hand reach over and pick up the undies.
“Those are mine!” he blurted out.
Teal’c looked at him, looked at the initials stenciled next to the happy face on the waistband and looked at him again.
“I believe it is at this point that I must ask you to pull the other leg, O’Neill.”
“Okay, yes, they’re Daniel’s, all right?” admitted Jack with ill grace. “Now give them back.” He held his hand out, but Teal’c didn’t move.
“I do not understand this obsession of yours with Daniel Jackson’s undergarment.”
“I’m not obsessed,” lied Jack. “He decided to go commando and I told him I’d take care of them for him.”
“Is it not unusual for one man to carry another man’s panties on his person?”
“Guys don’t wear panties, girls do. Guys wear underpants. Now give me Daniel’s underpants.”
He tried to give Teal’c his patented Do It Or I’ll Hurt You stare known throughout the military to make grown men whimper in fear. Teal’c countered with his patented I’m Bigger, Badder, and Way More Dangerous Than You stare, also known as the I’m A Jaffa And You’re Not. Jack knew that there was no way he could make Teal’c do anything he didn’t want to. This called for a whole different tack, something radical and completely unexpected. Jack sighed.
“I beg your pardon, Teal’c,” he enquired politely, “but may I please have those back?”
Teal’c handed them over and Jack quickly folded them before stuffing them into his cargo pocket once more.
“You know, I have underwear too,” Carter interjected.
“Thank god for that,” mumbled Jack.
“How come everyone’s always so focused on Daniel? Doesn’t anyone want to see my underpants?” She stabbed at the bottom of her entrée bag with her spoon.
“I have seen them. They are of little consequence,” dismissed Teal’c haughtily.
“Besides, who hasn’t seen your underpants?” groused Jack “That’s the real question.”
“Sir, a woman’s delicates,” she heard stereo snorts from Jack and Teal’c but continued gamely, “a woman’s delicate under things-“
“That reminds me, Carter,” sniped Jack “your grandmother called. She wants her underwear back.”
Carter was stiff-lipped with annoyance. “A glimpse of a lady’s private garments can be very exciting to the right man.”
“So you’ve been trotting ‘em out all over the galaxy looking for the right guy to eyeball ‘em and faint?” Jack shook his head. “Take it from me, Carter. If you’re going to go fishing, you’ll need better bait.”
Carter gasped indignantly. “I am not fishing. Hey! What do you mean, better bait?”
Teal’c’s spoke up. Evidently, he’d been mulling over an earlier comment. “Major Carter, I believe your undergarments no longer fit the definition of private. Have you not already shown them to Narim, Martouf, Orlin, various warlords across multiple worlds, the busboy on P36-GH1, the busboy at O’Malley’s, the hologram of Thor, Thor, our robot doubles, the young warrior escorting us to Master Bra’tac, Master Bra’tac, a being of ambiguous gender whom you deemed to be “worth a shot”, the entire complement of priests at the Temple of Azak –“
If Teal’c were to list every male that Carter’d ever flashed her undies at, they’d be there a long time, so Jack cut in. “Bet you gave ol’ Joe Faxon a peek.”
“That was for national security,” she said primly.
“Carter, your underpants are the least secure thing about the SGC.”
“They are not,” she huffed indignantly.
“Oh come on, Carter. The only way more people could see your underwear would be if ya nailed them to a stick and waved them around over your head while hooting like monkey.”
“In Times Square,” rumbled Teal’c “at midnight on New Year’s Eve.”
Carter glared at Jack. Her eyes narrowed and the hand holding her empty dinner bag moved a millimeter closer to her survival knife.
Jack glared right back. “Shouldn’t you be off somewhere rinsing out those delicates? Never know when a likely looking warlord might come riding up.”
Carter suddenly lunged toward him. For a moment Jack thought she was going to beat him to death with her empty MRE bag so before she could reach him, he flung himself backward off of the log he was sitting on. She merely shoved her trash into the designated garbage bag which had been next to where Jack was sitting. She was careful not to look at him, but seemed awfully pleased with herself. Jack tried his best to look as though he had meant to go diving into a backward roll at about 80 freaking miles an hour. From the smirk on Teal’c’s face, he didn’t think he’d fooled anyone.
“Good night, Sir.” The pleasantry drifted over her shoulder as she swaggered to her tent.
Yep. She was damn near busting a gut from NOT laughing at him.
Just then, Daniel strolled back into camp, toilet paper in one hand, book and flashlight in the other.
“Um, did I miss something?” he said, looking at Carter’s retreating back, Teal’c’s obvious amusement, and Jack doing his best to brush off ground-in dirt.
“Nope,” said Jack, hoping that his heart would slow down soon. Christ, but Carter could move when she was motivated. “Not a thing. Teal’c, you’re first up on watch. Good night campers.”
Jack had never been so glad to see the infirmary at the end of a mission. He had taken a quick dip in the nearby lake to freshen up that morning. When he got out, his underpants were gone. So were all his spares. He had been forced to finish up the mission free ranging. He wasn’t sure if it was Carter or Teal’c who’d done it, but damn if he wasn’t going to make somebody pay.
SG-1 spent the morning finishing up the survey then had a long walk back to the gate. Jack had gotten sweaty, and the damp cloth of his BDU’s rubbed against his tender bits with every step. By the time he got to the infirmary, his usual long stride had been replaced by baby steps and he hunched forward slightly, doing his best to protect his boys from further abrasions.
When they got to the infirmary, each team member took a bed and waited for the post-mission physical. Dr. Frasier started with Jack, pulling the curtain around the bed to give him the illusion of privacy. The minute the curtain swished closed, he undid his pants, pushed them down his thighs and whispered very very quietly, “Doc, I’ve got a bit of a problem here.”
“Colonel,” demanded Frasier loudly, “where the hell is your underwear?”
Jack could swear he heard a snicker from Carter. He gathered his dignity around him, which admittedly was difficult to do with his chafed red schlong hanging out of his pants. “It was stolen.”
“Your underwear,” repeated Frasier in a tone of complete disbelief, “was stolen.”
“That’s right. Stolen,” he affirmed defiantly.
From the other side of the curtain, he heard Daniel chime in. “It’s okay, Janet. Jack’s just going commando.”
“Daniel, anyone who goes running around on a mission in those heavy BDU’s with no underwear is insane.”
“But, Janet,” and there was Puzzled Daniel. Jack knew that look even if he couldn’t actually see it at the moment. He could hear the bafflement and he could picture the face that went with it because he saw that face a lot. A lot. Daniel continued. “Jack said that going commando means you’re a Man of Action.”
“Hmph,” Janet sent a glare Jack’s way and his chapped balls retracted as far as they could. Ow. “Man In Dire Need Of Lotion, is more like it. I don’t know if it’s possible to die of chafing, but you’d certainly wish you had. Right, Colonel?” She arched one eyebrow at him evilly. It bothered him that he couldn’t be certain that she wouldn’t hurt him in front of witnesses.
“I didn’t do this on purpose,” he insisted. “My underwear, all of my underwear, was stolen this morning.”
“For heaven’s sake, Colonel,” said Frasier, “Who would want to steal your underwear?”
“Jack saw some really big chipmunks there,” suggested Daniel.
Frasier got a funny look in her eye and Jack heard another giggle from Carter.
“So,” said Frasier, “you think giant chipmunks stole your underwear?”
Frasier tried not to laugh and snorted through her nose instead. There was an answering snort from Carter’s bed. Jack could hear that breathy little not-laugh of Daniel’s going too, the traitor. Dollars to donuts, Teal’c was doing that smugly amused thing with his face.
Fine. They could razz him all they wanted, as long as they gave him lotion. Ow.
|Genres:||Humor, Parody, Pre-Slash|
|Summary:||For Colonel Jack O’Neill, stalwart leader of SG-1, PR5-48T would forever be The Panty Planet. Not because of anything they found there, but because the entire mission from start to finish seemed to revolve around underwear. Some of it was damn fine underwear, too. Jack should know. He still had a pair of Daniel’s BVD’s hidden away.|
Author's Chapter Notes:
This is all the fault of the Daniel - Boxers, Briefs, or Commando thread at Our Stargate which conjured up my Whacky Muse. Featuring Lusting!Jack and Oblivious!Daniel. MANY THANKS to AnnO, Barb, and Mare for the lightning fast beta. Minor spoilers through Season 5.