It takes him a little bit of time to notice, after the absolute rush of getting to play in the F-302, but eventually, as they're getting signed out of the base and back into Jack's truck to head back towards the Mountain, Cam notices that O'Neill has gone unusually pensive. Which - it's not like he's a many of many words all the time, but there's just something about the energy building between them across the seats that is weird even for the General.
"You didn't come all the way out here from D.C. just to let me fly again, did you, Sir?" he hazards at long last.
"The Stargate program is under my command," Jack responds immediately, curtly, but then he glances over at Cam while they're stopped waiting at a security gate. They move forward one vehicle length several times before he grudgingly adds, "I may have gotten an earful from Daniel, and Landry, about not telling you that the rest of SG-1 had moved on. It was a shitty thing to do."
Cam guesses that is about the closest he's ever going to get to an apology from the General, so he nods slowly. He still can't help but ask, "Why did you, Sir?"
Jack drums his fingers on the steering wheel, rolling down the window to flash his ID at the Airman at the gate when it's their turn, and pulls out onto the road. Cam is starting to think he's not going to get an answer when, "I wanted you for SG-1, and I didn't want to risk you turning me down."
That gives him plenty to think about for a couple of minutes as scenery races by. He's flattered, despite himself; he knew Jack would have had a hand in picking him for the Stargate program's flagship team, of course, and SG-1 had made their appreciation clear when he was in recovery after Antarctica. Still, it's another thing entirely to hear that he was highly sought after enough for Jack to be willing to go to those lengths. It's uncomfortable, though, too; a lot to live up to to fill Jack's shoes.
And as apologies go, flying in the F-302 was a pretty good one. "You still didn't have to come all the way out here for this," he points out, because his commander hasn't relaxed, so there's still something else. "You could have just ordered me to show up and I could have gone up with a test pilot."
Jack pulls the truck off the highway into the parking area of a drive-up highway overlook point and turns in his seat to look at Cam. "You haven't picked a team," he says, reopening the brief conversation they'd had at the beginning of the flight.
It takes Cam a minute to capture his scattered thoughts, and then he says carefully, "I'm hoping I won't have to, Sir." Jack's single raised eyebrow is a clear prompt to continue. "Jackson missed the Daedalus. Even if everything goes perfectly, and they turn right around and come home immediately, which wasn't the plan, I've got almost six weeks left to convince him he's needed on SG-1. And we both know that it's unlikely they will be turning around and coming right home unless all is lost, in which case there won't be a return trip. Teal'c - I don't think that guy is going to be happy for long as a diplomat. And besides, I'm sure you know the way he is around Jackson - if Jackson's still on an active Gate team, I think I'll have Teal'c back sooner than later. And if I have Jackson and Teal'c, well, I'm counting on the two of them to reel in Carter. Sir."
He would have missed Jack's brief smile if he hadn't been looking right at him, but the General's face is back to seriousness all too soon. He has to work hard to conceal the delight that the older man doesn't contradict him - doesn't offer up any counter-arguments why they former members of SG-1 wouldn't return, or caution him not to get his hopes up. He seems to stare off into the distance for a while and then finally says, "I won't put any bets on Carter, but I do think you'll have Daniel at least for now. He's worried about these new supervillains."
"The Ori,"
Jack waves a hand dismissively. Apparently, that wasn't really the point of the segue. "Daniel has only ever been under my command at the SGC."
He doesn't know what he's supposed to do with that information, or why Jack is telling him, so he just says, "Uh, okay."
His commander's fingers start to drum a little beat on the steering wheel again - not a great sign. "Look, Mitchell, what I'm trying to say is you will only ever be his second direct commander since he's been with the Air Force. And he requires a....soft touch, when it comes to the corporal policies."
He can't help it, he laughs out loud. "Is this the part where you warn me not to beat the shit out of him, Sir?" he asks incredulously.
"If I thought I had to do that, you'd never be getting within 100 yards of being his commander in the field," Jack responds, and his tone is so serious that all humor shrivels up in Cam instantly. "If you were that kind of commander, you would never have gotten recommended to the SGC."
Jack is still dead serious, and that only raises Cam's respect for him. He's had commanders in the past who take a...liberal approach to the Air Force's corporal punishment regs, to the point of being sadistic with them. As for himself, it's his least favorite part of being an officer - if he could get away with never having to administer a punishment at all, he'd do it, and so man it chafes that it really does work for some people, and sometimes it's the best or only option.
"If that's not what you are worried about, then what are you saying, sir?"
Uncharacteristically, showing a human side Cam knew he had but rarely sees except when it's an obvious performance of sarcasm and comedy, O'Neill groans and scrubs a hand over his face. "Look, he has a history, pre-Stargate. Abuse."
Cam stares at him. That - he wasn't expecting that. He's seen a few cases, but from a distance, he's been through the training like everyone else who is given the responsibility of handing out punishments, but he hasn't ever had to deal firsthand with anything more complicated than nervous Cadets. And he's shocked Jack is telling him right now, about Daniel.
Jack's jaw is tight. "I know what you're thinking. He knows I'm talking to you, and it's because he doesn't want to have to talk about it, but you also can't go into the situation blind. I did, and it nearly ruined both our friendship and our working relationship." His laugh doesn't have any humor in it at all.
"Jackson's a civilian," Cam says tentatively, "We could just work something else out..."
"No," Jack says firmly. "Sorry. That's exactly what you can't do, not if you want him as an active member of a Gate team, or he will get himself killed."
The skeptical look is beyond his control - he's read the mission reports. All of them. Jackson is a highly competent adult, saving the world many times over, and surely all that is standing between himself and self-destruction is not the fact that he might occasionally get spanked.
"I can see what you are thinking," Jack says. "It's true. He's brilliant. One of the smartest people I've ever met. And he's got a heart of gold, and he's loyal to a fault. He's also reckless, and stubborn, and he ALWAYS thinks he's right. And if he doesn't know that there is a rigid set of rules of acceptable behavior off-world and inescapable consequences for breaking those rules, he is a pain in the ass at best to be in command of in the field, and at worst a security risk to every member of your team." Jack is learning forward a bit now, into Cam's space, and this is his General speaking, not just his almost-friend of before. "If you cannot set aside your starstruck glorification of him and be the commander he needs, I will pull him from your team."
"Yes, Sir," Cam responds automatically, because what else can he say? There is no other correct answer.
"The specifics of it will be up to the two of you," Jack says, leaning back into his own space and turning his head to stare out the front window. "Your relationship with him will be different than mine."
"I can't have any advice?" Cam resists the urge to whine but is aware he doesn't quite succeed. It's not fair, for Jack to tell him that Daniel's been abused, needs a 'soft touch', and then give him nothing to go on! "Your top three tips, maybe."
Jack shoots him a look, but it's back to being vaguely amused, not deadly; Cam feels the tightness in his stomach start to uncoil that he hadn't realized was there when Jack had been in his space. "Top three tips," Jack muses, as he starts the truck up and backs it onto the road. "Alright. One, he doesn't like open-ended expectations. Doesn't matter how uncomfortable the conversation makes the two of you, hash out a specific set of rules."
"Ok," Cam agrees, though he privately thinks that sounds like overkill. Aren't the procedures and Air Force policies clear enough?"
"Two, don't give him time to try to talk his way out of it. Especially before you have some time to develop a thicker skin," O'Neill flashes him a hard-to-read look. "I know you think you've heard it all, but you haven't heard anything until you've heard Daniel trying to talk his way out of a situation."
Cam laughs, because this one, he can imagine. He's read enough of their adventures, enough about Daniel talking them out of tight spots, to see the logic in Jack's second suggestion. If the archaeologist has a silver tongue, it only makes sense he'd use it to try to talk his way out of personal consequences as well - Cam knows from experience, that even if you know you deserve it, the dread can be a serious thing.
"Three..." They've reached the Mountain, and Jack pauses to clear them into the parking lot, not speaking again until he's parked the truck. When he turns to Cam, he's got his serious face on again and it makes Cam pause with his hand on his seatbelt and pay attention. "Three. No belts. No straps, no tawses, nothing that could resemble a belt."
Cam answers that one with a sincere "Yes, sir," because it feels appropriate, and then Jack promptly changes the subject as they head into the SGC.
They get along without issue for a few weeks, and while Cam doesn't exactly forget what the General had said, it does seem to become less important as time goes by. He attempts to have the conversation once, and it goes exactly as awkwardly as he's expecting.
He wanders into Daniel's office, where the other man is bent squinting over some text that definitely didn't come from any of their missions. Cam thinks he probably wouldn't have to squint so hard if he turned on some more lights. When standing awkwardly in the doorway for several minutes doesn't seem to get Daniel's attention, he clears his throat, and Daniel's head jerks up, blinking at him.
"Oh. Hey, Mitchell," He takes that as an invitation and walks further in, shoving his hands into his pockets. He turns and shuts the door, which seems to get Daniel's full attention, as the scholar slowly marks his page in his reference text and tilts his head. "Uh, what's up?"
"So, I had kind of a weird visit with General O'Neill a few days ago."
"Oh. Yeah." Daniel drops his eyes immediately, and it's hard to tell in the low light but Cam would swear that a blush is creeping up his neck.
"Yeah," he agrees, tugging a chair over and dropping into it across the desk. "So...?" He waits, but Daniel doesn't add anything, just picks up a pen and starts to fidget with it, spinning it absently in his hands. When he can't stand it anymore, he makes himself say, "The General...strongly suggested...it would be best if we sat down and talked about," Push comes to shove, and he can't make himself say 'rules'. Even as he mentally calls himself a coward, he finishes with, "Expectations."
"Ok."
Jeez. Usually, you can't get the guy to shut up, but now it's like he's talking to a robot. Cam valiantly resists the urge to groan. "So, I don't really want to think of myself as the boss, alright? We're a team. You've got experiences I don't have, and I've got experiences you don't have. But the Air Force has procedures, and regs, and on paper..." Cam shrugs. "When it comes down to it, there's just times we all have to follow orders, y'know?"
He gets a nod, so he goes on. "And the General said...and look, I've read the reports, too, so I think he has a point...sometimes you can be a little reckless. I'm not keen to be the one who gets Dr. Jackson killed, or to deal with O'Neill if you get hurt, so, keep a lid on that crap, ok?"
"Got it," he mutters, and opens his mouth to say something else, when they're interrupted by the blare of 'UNSCHEDULED GATE ACTIVATION'. Daniel shoves to his feet, making some excuse about how he's hoping it's someone or something he was waiting for, and makes with quite a bit of haste for the door; and Cam, not sure what to even say further, lets him go and gets up to follow, dropping the conversation entirely.
Yeah, Daniel sometimes takes more risks than he probably should, but they're in the business of saving the world! And maybe decisions get made more by committee - with Cam very rarely issues cut-and-dried orders he's unsure will get followed - but when it comes down to it, who really has more experience with this stuff, him or Daniel?
And then they're off-world one day accompanying another team, and the man runs into a collapsing cave, through a hail of gunfire from angry natives, after Cam has ordered everyone to fall back to the Gate immediately, starting with Daniel to dial them out. He's furious - he actually can't remember being so angry with a person under his command, ever. For once, he's thankful for all the rigamarole that goes into coming back into the SGC (the medical exam, putting away their weapons, checking in with the other team, making a preliminary report, and the rest of it), because it gives him time to cool down. By the time he hits the showers and the locker room, he's mostly calm, and has come to the realization that part of why he got so angry in the moment was simply that he was scared.
Yeah, he respects Daniel professionally, a hell of a lot. He wanted this assignment to SG-1 for a reason. But he's also come to like him personally, a hell of a lot, and quickly. He has that feeling that the man will be a friend - if he's alive long enough, he thinks grimly. As he goes through the motions on autopilot (shower, towel, find clean BDUs), he contemplates the correct course of action. He has to do something, and it has to be a strong enough reaction on his part to discourage this kind of nonsense from Daniel in the future. But what had Jack said, exactly? 'He requires a soft touch'. What the heck did that mean, anyway? And no straps - that eliminated a good chunk of the list of regulation implements. Daniel certainly wasn't a cadet, Cam wasn't going to turn him over his knee for a hand spanking. And while it would certainly make an impression, he can't imagine a cane would qualify as a 'soft touch', even if he was comfortable wielding one.
He guesses that leaves a paddle of some sort, though he's going to have to go borrow or requisition one, and won't that be fun? He laces up his boots and just sits for a minute, head hanging, before he admits putting it off isn't doing either of them any favors, and goes look for Daniel.
After getting what he needs from another officer, he tracks him down in another scientist's workroom, both of their heads bent over a laptop, scrolling through images. "Dr. Jackson," he says, interrupting them, and they look up. The other man looks annoyed at the interruption, but his teammate looks apprehensive. "I need a word," Cam says quietly.
"Can it wait, we're in the middle of analyzing this," the other man says, rudely. Cam blinks, and frowns.
"No, it can't," he says flatly, after leaving just a long enough pause to make sure his incredulity is felt. "Jackson?"
"Yeah," Daniel acquiesces. "Coming. Kyle, just take a good look and prepare a report for me on what you think."
Cam steps back out into the hallway, and Daniel follows him. His posture is tense, but there's an air of defiance in his face, and Cam takes a deep breath. He's not going to have this conversation, or argument, in the hallway. "Your office or mine?"
"Mine's closer," Daniel mutters ungraciously, and they set off. Cam lets him stride ahead, taking the time to close and lock the door when they go in.
Daniel stops in the middle of his office, his face wavering between looking still obstinate and painfully uncertain. Hating this, like he has every time he's ever had cause to punish a subordinate, Cam schools his face to sternness. "Do you know why we're here?"
Daniel shoves his hands into his pockets. "We're going to have a conversation about expectations," he tries.
"Not this time, Dr. Jackson," Cam says firmly, and sees the flinch and the uncertainty on his teammate's face. "We're beyond a conversation. I'm going to spank you."
Daniel's eyes narrow, and the obstinance comes back into his eyes, his mouth opening, and Cam has the feeling that Daniel is about to launch into an epic lecture, and they'll end up here all night, and he can't do that, and he's not going to have Daniel talk his way out of this. He remembers Jack's warnings like it was yesterday, and he's heard enough of Daniel's spiels by now that he's not interested.
"Be quiet," he says, firmly but not unkindly. "I'm not interested, all right? You know you were way out of line. I gave you an order to fall back and dial us out. Did you do that?" Daniel doesn't answer. Cam waits a frustrating few seconds in silence before he prompts, "Dr. Jackson?"
"You told me to be quiet," is the flat response.
Ah. He's a brat, then, when he's in trouble. Even as he has to force himself to unclench his jaw, because his teeth creak painfully, Cam doesn't know why he didn't see that one coming. But it also sheds new light on why Jack, despite having access to all the files he wanted to read that would have told him that one Colonel Cameron Mitchell hardly ever went the corporal punishment route with his subordinates (in fact, he was more likely to have been written up for having been too lenient than too harsh), had felt the need to pull him aside and specifically tell him about Daniel. Because that sort of impudent attitude when you were already being called to task could make even the calmest officers push harder and longer into a punishment than they usually would, thinking (usually correctly) that the subordinate was intentionally provoking that kind of response. If that wasn't true with Daniel, Jack was right to warn.
"You can answer my questions," he says calmly, and then to make sure there's no ambiguity left, continues, "I expect you to answer my questions, completely and honestly." Daniel's pulled his hands out of his pockets and wrapped them around his middle, a little flustered to have not gotten whatever response he was seemingly expecting. "So - did you follow orders today?"
"No,"
"No. In fact, you ran back through enemy fire, into an already unsafe situation in a collapsing cave, against my orders. Am I missing anything?"
"Those pictures could mean the difference between-"
"They are not worth YOUR LIFE." He finally loses the battle and shouts a little bit, pointing at Daniel, and shocking him into silence. "Nothing like that is worth your life! And you're not going to die on my watch because you don't take my orders seriously when it comes to safety. If I make a safety call and I am wrong the consequences will be on me, but you better have followed it to a T." Done with the conversation and ready to be done with the day, he casts a glance at the cluttered desk and then over to the slightly less untidy workbench, where there appears to be just enough space for an errant archaeologist to bend over. Putting a hand on Daniel's shoulder, he turns him towards the workbench. "Lose the pants and bend over."
Daniel doesn't move, and when Cam looks down at him, there's a flush across his face and his eyes are downcast. "C'mon, Jackson," Cam encourages gently, giving him a slight nudge towards the bench. At the second prompting, the other man goes, fumbling with his belt as he walks. When he reaches the bench, he unbuttons his pants and lets them drop, and then slowly leans forward, putting his palms on the shiny metal surface.
"All the way over," Cam corrects, not wanting him trying to hold himself up. It's awkward, the bench is just a little too tall and Daniel has to stand on his toes to be tall enough, and once he's wiggled into place with his chest flat across the surface the toes of his boots just barely brush the floor, but a little bit of an awkward, embarrassing position never hurt anyone, especially if the punishment itself is going to be on the lighter side. Cam steps up next to him and slides his fingers into the back of Daniel's boxers.
Daniel flinches and throws a hand back, whining, "You don't need to..."
Cam, just wanting to get this over with, aims a couple of quick, hard swats at the pale skin that peeks out just beneath the boxers. "Move your hand," he orders. The man over the bench gasps at each swat and snatches his hand back as if his underwear have suddenly burnt him. and Cam mercilessly whisks them down to just above his knees. In part, he believes that once someone has landed themselves in this position, they might as well get the full works, and the mortification of having someone administer the earned correction to your bare behind is part of that; and in part, because he needs to be able to see what he is doing.
When he's sure his target is clear, he steps back a half-step, laying his free hand on Daniel's back. Surveying the pale white skin presented to him, he starts with a warm-up. Well...it's not really a warm-up, per se, because his plan is not to drag this out, but rather to be as thorough as he can while having a 'soft touch', and making a point. But he doesn't start right off with his borrowed paddle, instead delivering a rapid rain of hard spanks, spreading them all over Daniel's bottom and the very tops of his thighs, watching the skin first lightly blush and then rapidly turn a raspberry pink under his hand. His charge doesn't react very vocally, but Cam can hear him gasp and his legs are starting to kick just a little by the time he pauses, so he's feeling the sting.
As he unhooks the paddle that Daniel hadn't seemed to have noticed from his belt with his spanking hand, he rubs a few long strokes up and down Daniel's back with the other, sliding his hand under the archaeologist's shirt so he can rest it skin-to-skin. "Alright, Daniel," it just feels right, in that moment, to use 'Daniel', though he almost always says 'Jackson'. "I'm going to give you eight with the paddle. There were six people shooting at you today, plus one for the cave, and a reminder to follow orders."
The man's breathing picks up again, and he makes a low noise in the back of his throat, going rigid under his hand. "You don't have to count," Cam tells him, and when there's no response, he pats his back gently, bracing himself to start. "It'll be easier if you relax," he advises. It feels plenty lenient, to Cam. For this kind of offense? Any of his commanders, even the ones he thought were soft when it came to discipline, would have started with a standard 12 and just kept adding, likely a set for each of the things that had happened in the field today. As far as he can figure, he couldn't be a 'softer touch' on this if he tried.
When it becomes apparent that Daniel isn't going to relax, he swings the paddle for the first time. He hadn't wanted to go to requisitions for one - not this close to the failed mission, when there was a chance some careless gossip would say the wrong thing and then the whole base would know the rumored invincible and never-wrong Dr. Jackson had gotten spanked. Thankfully, one of the marine sergeants had been in his office when Cam had walked by, a man Cam trusted to keep it out of the rumor mill, and he'd loaned him an implement. It's long enough to cover both cheeks with ease, a little narrower than his palm, and about a quarter of an inch thick. Not a joke of an implement - he's careful to moderate his swing, but even with the care he takes, the first stroke draws a yelp from Daniel and leaves behind a bar of color.
Taking careful aim, he lays the next swat just below the first, and then proceeds in that orderly fashion down to the fullest part of Daniel's upturned butt, turning the skin a bright red in the paddle's wake. By the sixth swat, Daniel is kicking his legs desperately with each pop, and Cam can hear his stifled yelps through where he's shoved his face into his arms.
"Almost done," he says quietly, rubbing Daniel's back briefly again before putting a little more weight into the hand on Daniel's back to make sure his increasingly frantic squirming won't mess up his aim. Taking careful aim, he lands the seventh swat right on the underside of Daniel's cheeks, the paddle briefly lifting them up as it connects. Daniel collapses, not into loud sobs but quiet tears that Cam wouldn't even know were happening if not for the hand on his back, and he has to harden his heart to land the eighth and last stroke, but he summons up his memory of bullets whizzing past Daniel's head to give him the fortitude and lands the last swat directly on top of the seventh.
Immediately, he sets the paddle aside so he can put both hands on Daniel's back, rubbing his back and shoulders. "It's over," he assures him, feeling the man's breath catch. "It's over, we're done." Daniel doesn't answer, but Cam doesn't expect him to. He'll give him as long as he wants to lay there, but, "Whenever you're ready, you can stand up. No rush." He's expecting Daniel to take a few minutes to calm down, and then get up slowly, maybe sheepishly; he's expecting a hug and then they can go grab a commissary meal or something.
What he isn't expecting is for Daniel to almost immediately push up from the table, before his breathing is even steady, and turn away from Cam as he hastily rights his boxers and pants, even though Cam can hear his breath catch from doing it. "Hey - Jackson, hang on, there's no rush-" he's reaching out for Daniel, trying to steady him, but drops his hands when the other man nearly trips and falls on his just-paddled rear flinching away from him.
"I'm fine," Daniel says, in a voice that sounds anything but fine. "I'm sorry, it won't happen again."
"It's behind us," Cam says slowly, trying to wrap his head around what is going wrong, and coming up empty. "Clean slate. But do you want a hug maybe, or we can grab dinner, my treat?"
"No thank you." Daniel doesn't look at him. "Can I go?"
"I guess, if that's what you want, but..." Daniel has already grabbed his coat and keys from behind his desk and is to the door, unlocking it and slipping out, before Cam can finish his thought, leaving him standing in the middle of the office completely bewildered.
