"Hey, Jack," Daniel looks up as he pushes his way into the man's office, barely pausing on his way to tap a knock on the doorframe. "Give me just a second."
He tugs over the chair in front of Daniel's desk and drops into it, watching the archaeologist as he types a few more sentences into his report and sends it off into the aether. When he's done, he turns to Jack with a tired smile, rolling his wrist and raising a hand to massage his temple. Jack considers the fatigue that is obvious in those movements and wonders if it would be better to leave this conversation for another day, but he can't imagine it's going to get any easier. "I don't suppose you brought coffee? I haven't had a good cup in days."
"No. I'm not here for a social call," Jack shakes his head, and watches the smile start to drop off of Daniel's face. Reaching up, he places a folder on the desk between them. "You want to tell me about what happened while you were off-world with SG-10?"
"I just finished my mission report," Daniel gestures back at his computer. "It'll be on your desk as soon as I get it printed. But," he shrugs, "it was pretty routine."
"That's not what Major Boyd had to say," Jack retorts, tamping down as hard as he can on his annoyance.
"What?" the archaeologist glances down at the folder, and then back up at Jack, "Jack I have no idea what you're talking about. We didn't find anything groundbreaking, and nobody got hurt."
If anything, his confusion makes Jack angrier - the fact that he doesn't even remember what he's done.
"Ignoring your radio? Missing your rendezvous time? Ignoring an order to retreat?" he opens the folder and taps the report inside, "Ringing any bells yet? Major Boyd delivered his report personally so he could tell me all about it."
He scowls again as he watches Daniel's expression change from confused to defensive. "My radio wasn't working, Jack," Daniel says, his hands spreading out in a placating gesture. "I told Major Boyd when they came to get me. I didn't hear any of his orders or the changes to the plan."
Jack can feel an eyebrow climbing, making his skepticism clear. "That's convenient. Your radio just happens to malfunction so you can't hear the order you wouldn't have liked?"
Daniel's face goes red. "It's not convenient, Jack. It's just what happened. My radio wasn't working down in the tunnels. I didn't hear anything."
Jack rubs a hand over his face. He's heard it all before - Daniel's excuses, his justifications. It's always something. He bites down on his frustration again, determined to stay calm, even though Daniel is lying to him. "And yet, everyone else's radios worked down there just fine when they came to get you, and when they tested them after you claimed yours didn't," he points out, voice sharp.
"I don't know what you want me to say," Daniel replies heatedly. "I didn't hear him."
All of the information Jack has says otherwise. Maybe Daniel didn't hear the summons because he was distracted, maybe his radio was off, maybe he just ignored the calls - whatever the reason, he had put himself and SG-10 in danger, he'd ignored direct orders from his commander while off-world, and worst of all, now he's refusing to take any responsibility for it, and Jack hates being lied to.
"Come here," he says, voice firm, gesturing to his side of the desk as he pushes the chair back to make a little more room.
"Jack," Daniel protests, "I didn't hear him!" He hesitates a moment as he pushes himself out of his chair but makes no move towards Jack. Jack can see the tension in his shoulders, the question in his eyes, and he hardens his resolve.
"Come here, Daniel," he repeats.
The archaeologist steps around the desk slowly, his eyes fixed on Jack's face. There's something there, a strange expression, but Jack just attributes it to the kid realizing he can't get out of this, as he pleads one more time, "Jack, please."
He responds by reaching out and grasping Daniel's wrist, tugging him to stand beside his legs. "Let's just get this over with," he says shortly. He doesn't like spanking Daniel any more than Daniel likes to get spanked, but he's determined to get him to start thinking things through off-world.
Without giving him any more chances to protest, he makes quick work of unfastening Daniel's belt and his pants and shucking them and his underwear down to his knees before grabbing his arm to tip him over his knee. Daniel's face has gone pale and his body is tense but he doesn't resist, allowing himself to be maneuvered into place.
Jack wraps his left arm around Daniel to grasp his hip, and lifts his right, wasting no time in bringing it down in a sharp smack to the bare backside now presented to him. Daniel doesn't react except to jerk a little in his hold, and he sets about landing rapid, sharp smacks all over.
He doesn't pause or say anything until the cheeks in front of him have turned from creamy white to dusky pink. "You know better," he lectures then. "We've talked before about putting yourself at risk. About putting those who have to follow you into danger at risk." Unusually, there's not much response from the man over his knee. Jack knows he's feeling it because his body is responding involuntarily - his muscles clenching and unclenching, little wiggles of his hips, crossing his ankles to try to keep from kicking - but Daniel doesn't say anything. No protests or promises, no pouty exclamations about how much it hurts.
"And lying about it when you get caught out - that disappoints me, Daniel. If I can't trust you, maybe we'll have to reevaluate whether you go out with other teams." With that, he concentrates a flurry of pointed, heavy smacks on the underside of Daniel's cheeks and his upper thighs. Swats that he knows would hurt, even if they hadn't been on top of previously spanked skin, but still no response from Daniel. He feels a pang of unease, but pushes it aside. This is necessary. Daniel needs to learn to follow orders, to respect the chain of command, before he gets hurt - or worse.
Speaking of following orders…he'd made a promise that he needs to keep now, that he'd use more than just his hand any time he had to take Daniel to task for not following orders off-world, but he hadn't exactly come prepared, since he also won't ever use his belt or strap on Daniel again. Grimly, he spots Daniel's ruler on the edge of his desk and reaches for it, satisfied with the feel of it once it's in his hand. Not so light it will break on impact or fail to make an impression, smooth and polished with no metal edge so it won't cause any pain he isn't intending to cause, a nice fit in his hand, and of a good length to catch one or both cheeks, depending on how he wields it.
The bottom over his knees is red now, and hot to the touch. He's honestly shocked there are no tears yet, but he's punished more than a few men and women who don't ever cry when they are being punished. Perhaps his previous, very tearful reactions had had more to do with the high emotions that had surrounded his fear of the process, and Daniel will settle in now as one of those who is more stoic. Or maybe he's just not there yet.
Regardless, he casts a critical eye over the red he's painted across Daniel's butt already and knows he doesn't want to do much more, or it would be too much. He wants his miscreant to be sore and sorry, but he's not interested in leaving bruises. Steeling himself for a possibly explosive vocal and physical response, he lays the ruler across the fullest part of Daniel's bottom to measure his swing and then lifts it and lands it across the top of his butt, crossing both cheeks and leaving behind a blazing white stripe that quickly flushes to a dark red. Daniel goes momentarily stiff as a board across his knees, and he can hear him inhale sharply, the exhale shaking his chest.
"Six of these, and then we're done," he murmurs, suddenly exhausted and just wanting it over with. He lands the next three slowly and with precision, marching a neat set of red lines from the crest of Daniel's to the fullest lower area. Numbers five and six are placed to leave an impression whenever he sits down for a while. Five he snaps down just on the underside of his bottom, lifting both cheeks on impact. Six he lands in the crease between butt and thigh, and then he tosses the ruler away on the desk.
"Alright, kid, all done," Immediately, his restraining hand around Daniel's hip is lifted and he uses his right hand to rub soothing circles, touch gentled. "Clean slate, you can come up here when you're ready. We're square, though an apology to Boyd probably wouldn't be a bad idea."
The chuckle that had been half escaped dies in his throat when Daniel scrambles off of his lap and, contrary to all of his experiences since the very first, does not throw himself into Jack's offered embrace. Instead, he quickly puts several feet of empty space between them. "I will apologize to Major Boyd first thing tomorrow morning," Daniel says, not looking up. "May I go home?"
Feel a little off-balance, Jack glances at the clock. It's 16:00, not officially time to be off shift but it's not like they're headed out anywhere and he watched Daniel submit his mission report already, so there's no real reason why he can't kick off. "Sure, why not," he says awkwardly. Daniel's behavior doesn't make a lot of sense, but he decides to write it off as part getting used to the process, and part embarrassment at being called on his crap. "I'll see you in the morning for the mission debrief."
Daniel nods, grabs his coat and his keys, and slips past Jack before he can say anything else.
