[fic] Paperwork (Jack/Daniel)

[dizzy]

Paperwork
Jack/Daniel
G



Paperwork.

So much paperwork.

Jack understands that reports need to be filed. There are people that aren't out on the field that need to know what's happening and the only way that can occur is for people that are out on the field to write up nice, concise little reports and hand them over.

He thinks that one report per mission is reasonable. One report per person per mission? Sure, also reasonable. As much as he'd like to pass off responsibility to one of his underlings, he understands that everyone has unique perspective and each perspective helps the build the big picture. He wouldn't expect Daniel to write about tactical maneuvers, and he certainly isn't about to start writing about building structure.

So that kind of paperwork? A-okay with him.

All of the other stuff? Not so much. The personnel reviews, the supply requisitions, the memos that must be signed and returned... it's all bull crap in his mind. Every time a flashlight gets busted, he has to fill out a paper saying how and why. Every time a MALP gets dinged and needs a repair. Every time Carter hacks apart one of her machines or hot wires a pocket lighter and a cell phone in order to save the world - Jack is the one that has to explain it to stupid pigheaded politicians who are already on Hammond's case about how much money is filtered into the SGC.

Enough is enough.

He slaps his pen down on the table and goes to find Daniel.

Daniel is, of course, also doing paperwork.

Daniel is perfectly happy doing paperwork, though, to Jack's absolute and utter confusion.

That little half smile on his face, Daniel just shrugs. "It helps, actually, for me to go back over every detail. For you - when the mission is over, it's over. For me, it's only the beginning. I'm still going over those glyphs that we could on P3X-532. In fact, doing this report actually helps me realize that the origins might actually lie more in the area of-"

"Ah! No." Jack says, a quick and sharp scolding that makes Daniel roll his eyes but also fall silent. "You? Are weird."

"I'm an archaeologist." Daniel corrects.

"A weird archaeologist."

"The weird archaeologist who has saved your ass how many times?"

"The weird archaeologist who has gotten my ass in trouble in the first place how many times?"

"Okay. Enough discussion about your ass." Daniel says.

And then pauses, clearly rethinking what just came out of his mouth.

There's an awkward moment, and then Jack clears his throat. "Lunch?"

"Ah. Yeah. Let's... do that."

"Sure you can pull yourself away from that report?"

Daniel looks down at the impressive stack of papers in front of him, and then at his computer screen. "Yeah. I'm actually finished. I was just editing..."

"What? That's what spell check is for." Jack waves a hand dismissively. "Hey, email me a copy of yours."

Daniel gives him a disdainful look. "You are not copying my paper, Jack."

"What?" Jack gives him a look that is all who, me? "I would never."

"Riiiiight."

Jack doesn't even bother with the wounded act again. He walks a step or two ahead of Daniel on the familiar way to the commissary. He's thinking about food - which dessert he wants, what they're serving today. "Is it Wednesday or Thursday?"

"Thursday."

"Salisbury steak."

"Yep."

Daniel doesn't sound all that happy. He hates the salisbury steak.

"Whatcha doin this weekend?" Jack asks, as they get in line, trays in hand.

Daniel glances out the doorway, in the vague general direction of his office.

"Daniel." Jack says, groaning at the thought of another hopeless-workaholic-argument situation. "Come on."

Daniel glances at him. "Fine. Make me a better offer."

"What?"

Daniel shrugs. "Make me a better offer."

"Fine. Steaks. My place."

"When?"

"Saturday."

"Sold." Daniel slaps down a shrink-wrapped sandwich and flashes Jack a smile.

This is entirely too easy. Instead of fighting it, Jack just grins. He'll take the easy victory when he can get it. "So, you sure I can't-"

"No, you can't copy my report."