Title: Tattoos And Teammates
Author: Wonderland
Rating: R
Disclaimer: Don’t own ‘em, wish I did, you know who does, yadda, yadda, yadda
Summary: Tattoo (I wish…)
Season/Spoiler info: None, early team days

Tattoos And Teammates

“Keep your hat on,” Jack advised Teal’c as they entered the restaurant. “Don’t know why they didn’t tattoo you guys somewhere less obvious.”

Teal’c held the door open for his companions. “It was so that both friend and enemy would be instantly recognizable.”

“All I’m saying is that maybe the arm? Thank goodness yours is the only tattoo I have to deal with.”

Carter snorted suddenly, shooting a quick glance at Daniel who was airily perusing the lobby area. “Four, non-smoking,” Jack told the hovering hostess, all while glaring at his team. He waited until they were seated, looking at the menus before he asked. “Carter? Something you need to share with the rest of us?”

“No, sir.” Her voice was prim and polite, overly so, Jack thought.

“It’s just, you seemed to have a bit of a reaction to that tattoo question.” There was no immediate sharing of information so he probed a bit further. “I just said that I was glad T was the only one with a tattoo.”

“Of that, I believe you are mistaken, O’Neill,” Teal’c informed him after the waitress had departed with their drink orders.

Jack slowly lowered his menu, surveying his team. “What?”

“I am not the only member of SG-1 with such a mark on my body.” Teal’c turned to his right. “Daniel Jackson, is this steak an agreeable meal? I have attempted to eat one in the commissary but…”

“Yeah, well, that doesn’t really compare to a real steak, Teal’c. Yes, a good steak is a very agreeable meal.” He launched into an explanation of rare versus well done while Jack stared and Sam hid behind her menu.

They were ready to order by the time the waitress returned with their drinks. Jack nodded with satisfaction when Teal’c ordered his steak rare; he’d rather thought Teal’c was the rare type, although it surprised him to hear Daniel order his the same way. Carter was predictable and ordered hers medium well, Jack smirked inwardly as he informed the waitress of his idea of well done. “Okay, Carter, spill. What kind of a tattoo do you have? A rose, a heart, a bunny wabbit?”

She looked affronted. “Why do you assume it’s me? And why do you assume it’s something,” she made parenthesis marks in the air, “girlie?”

“Oh, come on, there’s no way in hell Daniel got a tattoo, he’s too much of a wimp.”

“O’Neill, would you be willing to wager some money on that possibility?”

“Do you know something I don’t?” Jack eyed him suspiciously.

“I do not. However, I do believe that it more likely Daniel Jackson has a tattoo than Captain Carter. Do you wish to wager on this?”

Jack gave Daniel a good, long look, but he saw nothing in that innocent expression to help him. “Yeah, you know what, I’ll take that bet. How much?”

“Whoever is incorrect must pay for all four meals.”

“Okay, you’re on,” the competitors solemnly shook hands. “Carter, show us the tattoo.”

“Sorry, sir, I must cheerfully decline.” She grinned into her beer.

All eyes lit on Daniel, who seemed to find the tablecloth pattern most fascinating. “Daniel?”

“Jack?” His eyes stayed resolutely down.

“Is there something you wish to share with us? Like a damned tattoo.” Jack suddenly had a sinking feeling.

“Tattoo?” This was clearly a stall tactic.

“Daniel. Do you or do you not have a tattoo? And if so, why haven’t we seen it?”

“I believe Daniel Jackson’s tattoo is in an area most commonly kept covered,” Teal’c paused dramatically, “usually by undergarments.”

Jack sputtered. “On his ass? He’s got a tattoo on his ass? Daniel, you dog, come on, show us your tattoo. Please.”

“I believe I speak for most of the staff when I say ‘pretty please’?” The waitress cheerfully began unloading plates. “If you like, I can let you use the employee lounge, if you need a bit of privacy. Although there’s a rumor that it’s got a secret camera.” She winked broadly before whipping the tray under her arm and sailing away.

Daniel’s face was several shades of red as he situated his plate in front of him. “I’m not showing it to you, so just shut up.”

“It’s true, then? And why did Teal’c know about it?”

“Because both you and Captain Carter have been in the military most of your adult life and the Air Force frowns upon soldiers marking their body in such a manner.” Teal’c took a bite of his steak. “Daniel Jackson, you are correct, this is most delicious. As for the tattoo, I admit to hearing one of Dr. Fraiser’s nurses gossiping about several markings she had seen in her tenure on the base.”

“And how did you know it was Daniel.”

“Because I know of no other person on base who would willingly allow an ankh to be drawn upon their body.”

Jack’s silverware froze in mid-slice. “You have an ankh on your ass?”

Daniel’s fork dropped to the table. “Okay, it was a long time ago and we were bored on a dig and we went into town and the liquor kind of flowed and it’s more on my hipbone really…”

“Just how old were you, anyway, Daniel?” Carter chased a fry through the ketchup on her plate.

“I told the guy I was eighteen and he didn’t exactly ask for an ID, okay? He just took my money and did the tattoo.” He held his hand up. “And, no, I am not showing it to you, to any of you. Bad enough the infirmary staff’s seen it.”

“Daniel Jackson, since O’Neill is purchasing our dinner, perhaps we can indulge in a dessert? I saw a photograph of a most intriguing chocolate concoction.”

Jack’s mouth dropped open. “I’ve been had, you knew all along about the damned tattoo! That is not fair.”

“I was completely unaware of Daniel Jackson’s tattoo, O’Neill. I was merely using the process of elimination. You have been defeated in a fair contest; please summon the waitress so that I may request a dessert menu.”