Saturday Morning Blues: Alex Plays the Bowl
Saturday Morning Blues: Alex Plays the Bowl
by Infamous Beth
TITLE: Saturday Morning Blues: Alex Plays the Bowl
AUTHOR: Infamous Beth
EMAIL: eshanley@voyager.net
CATEGORY: Sap and Humour, S/J
SPOILERS: Beneath the Surface
SEASON / SEQUEL:
RATING: PG
CONTENT WARNINGS: male/female relationship
SUMMARY: Just sweet sap about a morning at the O'Neills
STATUS: Complete
ARCHIVE: Heliopolis
DISCLAIMER: Stargate SG-1 and its characters are the property of Showtime/Viacom, MGM/UA, Double Secret Productions, and Gekko Productions. We have written this story for entertainment purposes only and no money whatsoever has exchanged hands. No copyright infringement is intended. The original characters, situations, and story are the property of the authors. Not to be archived without permission of the authors.
AUTHOR'S NOTES: Just some sweet sap I found accumulating. The bowl stuff is in honor of Jack and Bowl, if you don't get it, I can try to explain it to ya if you mail me. It's really meant for fun. Really, I kid you not. Thanks to the Bowl ppl, the other Horsewomen of the Apocalypse, and the chatters.. who strangely enough are generally the same folk. Do I need to get out more?
Alexander Daniel George O'Neill had his father's brown eyes and his mother's ready smile. He had also been blessed with an inquisitive nature and a propensity for getting into trouble that his parents swore came from his Uncle Danny. And he was only four.
When Alex had begun to make messes and loud noises by crashing whatever was at hand, his Great Uncle George was quoted as saying, "The boy is definitely his father's son." No one had argued the point.
It was early on this peaceful Saturday morning, an oddity in and of itself in the O'Neill household. The peaceful part that is, the Saturday, as in all places on Earth, came around every 7 days. With no dire emergencies to handle, and having spent a week on opposite sides of the galaxy, Sam and Jack O'Neill were quite happy to sleep in.
CRASH!!
THUMP! THUMP! THUMP!
Colonel Samantha O'Neill opened one eye and looked at her husband who was pretending to still be asleep beside her.
"He's your son, and it's your turn," she said sleepily.
"All righty," Jack grumbled as he rolled out of bed.
Jack padded downstairs to the source of the noise. At the kitchen door he stopped dead and gazed in horror at the scene before him.
"SAM!" came Jack's panic-stricken cry from the kitchen.
Sam's eyes popped open and she was halfway down the stairs before she was completely awake. She had an inkling of what she would find when she got downstairs.
In the kitchen, Alex was enjoying the pastime of millions of children, playing with the pots and pans. Unfortunately for his father, Alex's playmates this morning also included a white plastic bowl.
A bowl which was never to be removed from its place on the dining room hutch.
A bowl which was currently being thumped on by a wooden spoon.
Jonathan Charles O'Neill, fifty year old veteran of wars, black ops, and interplanetary negotiations was standing in the doorway to the kitchen with a pained look on his face.
His son, one of the loves of Jack's life, looked up at him with a gleam in his eyes and an "aren't you proud of me too?" look on his face.
Sam sighed. She had thought Jack had finally gotten over his bowl dependency when the children were born, but perhaps he hadn't been able to go completely cold. bowl? She loved him dearly, but sometimes it was a bit much.
"Alex, why don't you come with Mommy and we can play Barney tapes?"
The gleam in Alex's eyes grew brighter, he knew his father disliked the purple dinosaur, but Barney was so much fun! The little hellion scampered out of the kitchen.
Jack sighed as his bowl went skidding across the floor, a victim of his son's haste to go with his mother to watch videos of the accursed purple dinosaur. He followed the bowl and picked it up, checking it for damage.
Sam came back from loading Barney into the VCR, hoping her son would follow his usual pattern and be asleep in a few minutes. She watched her husband from the doorway, relieved that neither the bowl nor her husband seemed to have cracked in their experience with Alex's playtime.
Sam picked the rest of the pans off the floor and put them on the counter. She moved behind Jack and wrapped her arms around him.
"Baby," she said soothingly, "let me put the bowl up on the top shelf where it will be safe, okay?"
Jack nodded and handed over the bowl.
"Doesn't look like Alex hurt it, Sam"
Sam placed the bowl on the top shelf of the cupboard.
"That's good," she said as she smiled gently at him.
"Jack, Alex should be asleep by now, why don't you carry him back up to bed and I'll check on Astrid."
Jack nodded and went to the family room to gather up his now sleeping son. As Sam had predicted, the little guy was completely out of it. He looked like the innocent he was, even if he had enough O'Neill in him to stir up trouble on a regular basis.
As he carried his son up to his room, Jack thought about the bowl. It HAD saved his life, he still doubted that without the bowl he would have remembered his real life on P. well, he had dubbed the place "Planet Bowl". It was his homage to the thing that helped him to regain his memory. Of course he would be forever grateful that had not happened until after he and "Thera" had made love. That memory had kept him going through the subsequent year of pain they had endured. But they had survived, and survived together. The bowl was a reminder that they could overcome anything; that no matter who they were, or weren't, they would always be part of each other, body and soul.
Jack tucked his little hellion in, kissing him gently on the forehead. He had loved and lost in the most horrible way possible and he knew that second chances were rare. He was glad his position as Earth's Representative to the Council of the Five allowed him to have a vaguely regular schedule. Although one never knew completely if one was going to be beamed up at a bad time.
Jack smiled at the memory - it had been a shame that the Asgaard didn't know what the word "Honeymoon" meant. Thor told him they had assumed it was an Earth ritual for gathering sweets. Well, the little guy hadn't been THAT far off. Sam later said at least they were two of the few people on Earth who could get those "Very Funny Scotty, Now Beam Down My Clothes" bumper stickers with cause. Though at the time she really hadn't been that amused. With Thor for the beam out, or her new husband for pointing out that the Asgaard weren't wearing any clothes at the time either.
Jack left Alex's room and made his way down the hall to Astrid's room. Their baby girl was 18 months old and the image of her mother. Jack couldn't have been more thankful to whatever deities there were for that. From the doorway he watched as Sam tucked the little girl into her crib. Astrid was still at the age where she would sleep through the night, even if her brother on occasion tried to make that impossible.
Sam tiptoed out of the room and put her arms around Jack's waist.
"You okay?"
"Yeah. wanna go back to bed?" Jack waggled his eyebrows suggestively at her.
"Well, I suppose. You're probably tired."
"Well, the bowl is okay, you and the kids are okay, everything is... ummpphhhh"
Sam removed her fist from his stomach.
"Kids and me first, bowl second, remember?"
"Yasureyabetcha snookums, " Jack wheezed.
Sam giggled.
"No giggling, remember?"
She smiled and placed her hand on his chest where it began to move slowly downward.
"Are you going to use your sidearm properly this time?" she whispered in his ear as they reached the bedroom.
"Oh, I think I can manage to ace target practice this morning," Jack replied as his lips descended onto hers.
"Oh good."
The rest of her comment was forgotten as they lost themselves in each other.
Downstairs, in the kitchen, the bowl that had brought them back to themselves sat on the shelf, a symbol of love that could not be ignored.
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