Anything You Can Do
Jul. 9th, 2011 01:53 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
stringertheoryTitle: Anything You Can Do
Rating: PG
Fandom: Stargate SG-1
Characters: Daniel Jackson, Paul Davis
Word Count: 1295
Categories: humor, friendship
Spoilers/Warnings: Set post series. Mild spoilers for the show.
Summary: Written for the![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
sg1friendathon: "Daniel, Paul Davis. Sharing crappy experiences over beers."
The regular crowd at Hannigan's had long since arrived and taken up their usual positions by the time Major Davis swept into the pub.
It was unlike him to be late, but Daniel—suspecting work to be the culprit—merely settled in with a pint to wait. He would be along once he was able; until then, Daniel would pass the time by surreptitiously observing the other patrons via the mirror above the bar.
Soon enough, Daniel spotted Davis pushing through the door. He smiled to himself as the major's reflection unerringly headed in his direction. Schedules being what they were, the two friends didn't often find the time to meet up, but when they did get together, it was always at the same place. And usually the same two bar stools. It was a routine they had established years ago, the very first time the major had invited the doctor out for a drink.
Daniel nodded in greeting as Davis appeared beside him.
“Major.”
“Doctor.”
Davis collapsed on the next stool over and ordered a beer from the bartender in a tone that bordered on a plea. Daniel took in his appearance with interest. His shirt was a bit rumpled, unusual for the characteristically well-pressed major, and his hair was mussed as if he had repeatedly dragged his hand through it. Daniel could guess at the general reason for Davis' harried state, and he resisted the urge to smirk.
“Rough day?” Daniel asked innocently.
“You have no idea,” he replied, hunkering over the beer the bartender placed in front of him as though it had restorative powers.
As a matter of fact, Daniel knew all too well how Davis' day had gone. Not only had Mitchell given him the cliff notes version, but Daniel had been the one to originally set up the day's meeting with the Galarans. Considering his personal feelings for the group, he had refused to play any further role in the discussions after the initial contact. It was at this point that the job had been passed on to the Pentagon's favorite liaison, Davis.
Twisting his glass back and forth on its coaster, Daniel schooled his features into a neutral expression. “Negotiations with the Galarans?”
“Yeah.”
“Then I do, actually.”
In his peripheral vision, he saw Davis throw him a dirty look.
“Between the Galarans and the Orbanians,” he said grimly.
Daniel cocked an eyebrow and looked around at him. That part he hadn't know about.
“Things were going well at first,” Davis explained. “Everyone was getting along, concessions were being made with much graciousness and diplomacy, and it looked like not only would everyone walk away happy, but we'd wrap things up earlier than scheduled.” He sighed wearily. “Then we got to the round of negotiations concerning the sharing and use of technology and it all went to hell in a handbasket. The Orbanians were scandalized by the stance of the Galarans, the Galarans were offended by the sensibilities of the Orbanians, and the rest of us were ready to abandon ship after two hours of listening to the two sides have it out in incredibly snooty fashion.” He took a large gulp of his beer and glowered at the liquor bottles lining the wall as if they were mocking him.
Daniel nodded. “Guilt- and shame-fueled stances; can't say I'm surprised,” he said.
“We're starting again in the morning,” Davis all but groaned.
Daniel resisted the urge to laugh. He certainly didn't pity the personnel who had been roped into managing that particular match-up. Still, he didn't believe it to be the worst assignment to be had. Feeling a little mischievous, he took a sip from his beer.
“It could be worse,” he offered sympathetically.
Davis gave a derisive snort. “Yeah, right.”
Daniel took another drink before answering.
“Negotiations between the nations aware of the Stargate program as to who should get first pick on the technology we found,” he said, a challenge in his voice.
In the mirror, he saw Davis freeze, beer halfway to his mouth, and stare at him in disbelief. After a moment, he gave a slight nod and turned to size Daniel up.
“Negotiations between the Jaffa nations after the defeat of the Goa'uld,” he countered.
Ah, that one Daniel knew all about. He was still eternally grateful that the planned expedition to Atlantis had excused him from participation. As much as he loved Teal'c, there was no way he would have willingly subjected himself to the political mess that was the new Free Jaffa Nation. He had garnered enough understanding of the Jaffa over the years to know that creating a government out of their splintered factions would take a minor miracle—and that the Tau'ri's assistance in creating that world would be less than welcomed. Still, he gave Davis credit for what little he was able to accomplish there. After a moment's thought, Daniel came back with a feat nearly as complex.
“Convincing the people of P2Y-385 to lend us their sacred 'god stone' for research.”
“Helping facilitate the cessation of hostilities between the warring factions on Montera.”
“Building a working Golgu-to-English dictionary.”
Davis looked around in surprise. “The language that sounds like—”
“Yeah,” Daniel said quickly, not wanting to get into the details.
Davis paused to take a long draw from his bottle. After a few seconds, he closed his eyes as if pained. “Being personal courier between the sovereign of Wynen and her favorite contact on Earth.”
“Wha—” Daniel choked on his beer. “Wasn't she the one who fancied—”
“—the IOA representative assigned to the trade negotiations? Yeah.”
At the major's glare, Daniel quickly turned his chuckles into a cough.
“Securing exclusive rights to a patch of planet that contained rare but valuable Earth minerals,” he said once he got his breath back.
“Are you talking about P7X-941?”
“Yeah.”
“The ceremony for the transfer of ownership?” Davis asked, his tone amused.
“Oh, yeah.”
Davis nodded in sympathy. “Convincing the Chinese to kick in a $3 million bonus for adding a mere five delegates to our SGC staff,” he continued.
“Getting the Russians to let us borrow their DHD.”
The muscles in Davis' jaw tightened at that one. Bad memories, it appeared. Daniel sympathized; it hadn't been all that fun for him, either.
“Being the sounding board for all of the Pentagon's and the Joint Chiefs' really bad ideas—and having to dissuade them from implementing them.”
“Having to re-catalog all 326 artifacts procured on the Yuta planet after the research team used the wrong set of labels.”
Davis began to counter, but pulled up short when one of their fellow patrons came a bit too close to where they were seated at the far corner of the bar. They watched over their shoulders as the man wobbled his way around tables and people to a booth at the back wall. Once the area was clear again, Davis continued.
“Convincing the president to give the final go-ahead on the Icarus project,” he said, with some pride.
Daniel looked around at him in surprise. “That was you?”
“Just between you, me, and the president,” he confirmed.
“Huh.” Daniel thought for a moment. “Convincing two different Ancients to interfere with 'lower matters,’” he answered, throwing in air quotations for good measure.
Davis turned to look at him straight on.
“Running interference for SG-1 for ten plus years.”
Daniel winced. He tilted his glass and Davis clinked his bottle against it.
“You win.”
Rating: PG
Fandom: Stargate SG-1
Characters: Daniel Jackson, Paul Davis
Word Count: 1295
Categories: humor, friendship
Spoilers/Warnings: Set post series. Mild spoilers for the show.
Summary: Written for the
sg1friendathon: "Daniel, Paul Davis. Sharing crappy experiences over beers."The regular crowd at Hannigan's had long since arrived and taken up their usual positions by the time Major Davis swept into the pub.
It was unlike him to be late, but Daniel—suspecting work to be the culprit—merely settled in with a pint to wait. He would be along once he was able; until then, Daniel would pass the time by surreptitiously observing the other patrons via the mirror above the bar.
Soon enough, Daniel spotted Davis pushing through the door. He smiled to himself as the major's reflection unerringly headed in his direction. Schedules being what they were, the two friends didn't often find the time to meet up, but when they did get together, it was always at the same place. And usually the same two bar stools. It was a routine they had established years ago, the very first time the major had invited the doctor out for a drink.
Daniel nodded in greeting as Davis appeared beside him.
“Major.”
“Doctor.”
Davis collapsed on the next stool over and ordered a beer from the bartender in a tone that bordered on a plea. Daniel took in his appearance with interest. His shirt was a bit rumpled, unusual for the characteristically well-pressed major, and his hair was mussed as if he had repeatedly dragged his hand through it. Daniel could guess at the general reason for Davis' harried state, and he resisted the urge to smirk.
“Rough day?” Daniel asked innocently.
“You have no idea,” he replied, hunkering over the beer the bartender placed in front of him as though it had restorative powers.
As a matter of fact, Daniel knew all too well how Davis' day had gone. Not only had Mitchell given him the cliff notes version, but Daniel had been the one to originally set up the day's meeting with the Galarans. Considering his personal feelings for the group, he had refused to play any further role in the discussions after the initial contact. It was at this point that the job had been passed on to the Pentagon's favorite liaison, Davis.
Twisting his glass back and forth on its coaster, Daniel schooled his features into a neutral expression. “Negotiations with the Galarans?”
“Yeah.”
“Then I do, actually.”
In his peripheral vision, he saw Davis throw him a dirty look.
“Between the Galarans and the Orbanians,” he said grimly.
Daniel cocked an eyebrow and looked around at him. That part he hadn't know about.
“Things were going well at first,” Davis explained. “Everyone was getting along, concessions were being made with much graciousness and diplomacy, and it looked like not only would everyone walk away happy, but we'd wrap things up earlier than scheduled.” He sighed wearily. “Then we got to the round of negotiations concerning the sharing and use of technology and it all went to hell in a handbasket. The Orbanians were scandalized by the stance of the Galarans, the Galarans were offended by the sensibilities of the Orbanians, and the rest of us were ready to abandon ship after two hours of listening to the two sides have it out in incredibly snooty fashion.” He took a large gulp of his beer and glowered at the liquor bottles lining the wall as if they were mocking him.
Daniel nodded. “Guilt- and shame-fueled stances; can't say I'm surprised,” he said.
“We're starting again in the morning,” Davis all but groaned.
Daniel resisted the urge to laugh. He certainly didn't pity the personnel who had been roped into managing that particular match-up. Still, he didn't believe it to be the worst assignment to be had. Feeling a little mischievous, he took a sip from his beer.
“It could be worse,” he offered sympathetically.
Davis gave a derisive snort. “Yeah, right.”
Daniel took another drink before answering.
“Negotiations between the nations aware of the Stargate program as to who should get first pick on the technology we found,” he said, a challenge in his voice.
In the mirror, he saw Davis freeze, beer halfway to his mouth, and stare at him in disbelief. After a moment, he gave a slight nod and turned to size Daniel up.
“Negotiations between the Jaffa nations after the defeat of the Goa'uld,” he countered.
Ah, that one Daniel knew all about. He was still eternally grateful that the planned expedition to Atlantis had excused him from participation. As much as he loved Teal'c, there was no way he would have willingly subjected himself to the political mess that was the new Free Jaffa Nation. He had garnered enough understanding of the Jaffa over the years to know that creating a government out of their splintered factions would take a minor miracle—and that the Tau'ri's assistance in creating that world would be less than welcomed. Still, he gave Davis credit for what little he was able to accomplish there. After a moment's thought, Daniel came back with a feat nearly as complex.
“Convincing the people of P2Y-385 to lend us their sacred 'god stone' for research.”
“Helping facilitate the cessation of hostilities between the warring factions on Montera.”
“Building a working Golgu-to-English dictionary.”
Davis looked around in surprise. “The language that sounds like—”
“Yeah,” Daniel said quickly, not wanting to get into the details.
Davis paused to take a long draw from his bottle. After a few seconds, he closed his eyes as if pained. “Being personal courier between the sovereign of Wynen and her favorite contact on Earth.”
“Wha—” Daniel choked on his beer. “Wasn't she the one who fancied—”
“—the IOA representative assigned to the trade negotiations? Yeah.”
At the major's glare, Daniel quickly turned his chuckles into a cough.
“Securing exclusive rights to a patch of planet that contained rare but valuable Earth minerals,” he said once he got his breath back.
“Are you talking about P7X-941?”
“Yeah.”
“The ceremony for the transfer of ownership?” Davis asked, his tone amused.
“Oh, yeah.”
Davis nodded in sympathy. “Convincing the Chinese to kick in a $3 million bonus for adding a mere five delegates to our SGC staff,” he continued.
“Getting the Russians to let us borrow their DHD.”
The muscles in Davis' jaw tightened at that one. Bad memories, it appeared. Daniel sympathized; it hadn't been all that fun for him, either.
“Being the sounding board for all of the Pentagon's and the Joint Chiefs' really bad ideas—and having to dissuade them from implementing them.”
“Having to re-catalog all 326 artifacts procured on the Yuta planet after the research team used the wrong set of labels.”
Davis began to counter, but pulled up short when one of their fellow patrons came a bit too close to where they were seated at the far corner of the bar. They watched over their shoulders as the man wobbled his way around tables and people to a booth at the back wall. Once the area was clear again, Davis continued.
“Convincing the president to give the final go-ahead on the Icarus project,” he said, with some pride.
Daniel looked around at him in surprise. “That was you?”
“Just between you, me, and the president,” he confirmed.
“Huh.” Daniel thought for a moment. “Convincing two different Ancients to interfere with 'lower matters,’” he answered, throwing in air quotations for good measure.
Davis turned to look at him straight on.
“Running interference for SG-1 for ten plus years.”
Daniel winced. He tilted his glass and Davis clinked his bottle against it.
“You win.”