DISCLAIMER: SG-1 its characters belong to B.W, J.G. and MGM. No copyright infringement intended, no money be made.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: This is the result of a prompt given to me by Elfcat255. She supplied the first sentence.
ARCHIVING: Only with the permission of the author.
Tactical Surrender
By Dhamphir
Trying very hard not to make a sound, Sam crept into the bedroom. That was her first mistake.
It didn't matter that she could silently sneak up on an enemy and take him before he knew she was there. Trying to silently creep into the bedroom without waking it's inhabitant only guaranteed that she'd make noise.
The light on the nightstand snapped on.
Busted!
"What do you think you're doing?" A dark eyebrow arched sternly. "Sneaking around in your socks, your boots in your hand?"
"Uh... I didn' wanna wake you."
"I wasn't sleeping," Janet said angrily. "Where the hell have you been?!"
Correction: Trying to silently sneak into the bedroom wasn't her first mistake. Not calling, going out with the guys, getting drunk, and not answering her cell phone was. Trying to sneak back in at 3:15 in the morning was just the last, and probably the most minor, offence.
"Well? I'm waiting for an answer, Samantha Carter."
Why was it, one of the most extraordinary minds on Earth, failed to come up with a single reason for her actions when faced with one small, angry doctor?
Wait.
Did Janet just call her Samantha Carter? Oh crap, she was screwed – big time.
Sometimes there was a tactical advantage in surrender.
"I'm s'ry. I went out the wit da guys. I shoulda called. We got drun'. An' Dan'l stole ma phone. S'ry." She sighed in defeat. "I'll go slee' on da couch."
Janet sighed and shook her head. "You stink. Go take a shower and then come to bed," she said. "But don't think for a minute I'll feel sorry for you in the morning."
Sam retained enough sense of self-preservation to simply nod and do as she was told.
The End