PG. Gen, team. Future. For the Carnival of Squee Take Back the Glee Commentficathon, to the prompt “tent.”
Disclaimer: These people do not belong to me and I am not making any money off them.
“I cannot believe I let you people talk me into this!” Jack sat just inside the door of the four-person Marmot, staring at the rain. “Some retirement party.”
“The storm will cease, O’Neill,” Teal’c said from the corner where he was sitting serenely.
Sam and Daniel were in their sleeping bags, heads close together, playing endless games of gin. It was warm in the tent despite the rain, familiar.
“Whose bright idea was this, anyway?”
“Yours.” Daniel didn’t bother to look up. “One last fling, you said. Commune with nature on earth for once, you said.”
“Well, this isn’t what I had in mind! How am I supposed to grill the steaks?” Steaks! He’d brought steaks for the first night of their trip, good ones, too, and their campsite had a perfect stone grill, currently very drippy.
“I told you to put the tarp up when we got here,” Sam said.
“Oh, you did not.”
“She did, O’Neill.”
“You said it was for old times’ sake, Jack,” Sam said. “It rained in the old times.”
“It rained a lot in the old times,” Daniel said.
“We got paid for that!”
“You were paid well enough to earn yourself a comfortable retirement, O’Neill. Would you like me to assist you in placing the tarpaulin above the grill?”
“No.”
The conversation descended into raindrops pattering on the fly, and Sam shuffling cards. She whispered something to Daniel.
Jack sighed dramatically.
Daniel sat up in his sleeping bag. Jack could see him smirking out of the corner of his eye. “You know we know you’re full of shit, right, Jack? You’re loving every minute of this.”
“Am not.”
“Are too.”
“Not.”
“You are, O’Neill.”
Sam said nothing, but her grin was big enough to light up the whole damn tent. Jack gave in.
“Hmph,” he said.
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