The Feel Good Factor
All publicly recognisable characters and places are the property of MGM, World Gekko Corp and Double Secret Productions. This piece of fan fiction was created for entertainment not monetary purposes and no infringement on copyrights or trademarks was intended. Previously unrecognised characters and places, and this story, are copyrighted to the author. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.
Category: Missing scene; humour
Season/spoilers: Season 4 - Upgrades
Warnings: Gratuitous nudity and general silliness<g>
Summary: Was there another reason for Janet's concern over SG-1's behaviour?
Disclaimer: Yeah, yeah, he isn't mine, but I wish he was... plus the usual MGM are great and worthy.
Author's Notes: I blame this story on a visit to my local sports shop<eg>.
"I feel good, dada dada dada da." Daniel sashayed along the corridors of the SGC, hips swaying to the rhythm as he sang the familiar James Brown song to himself. "I knew that I would now, dada dada dada da."
A passing airman stared at him in amazement before cautiously asking. "Doctor Jackson? Are you... okay?"
"Never felt better," Daniel replied, doing a three-hundred-and-sixty pivot on the ball of his right foot. "In fact, I feel..." He reverted back to song. "So good." One hand punched the air. "So good!" The other mimicked the action. "I got you - da da da da do."
The airman hurried away, shaking his head, apparently unable to believe what he'd just witnessed.
Still singing Daniel turned into the locker-room. He'd just left the gym where the Tok'ra scientist Anise had put him through his paces. Ordinarily Daniel could think of a dozen things he'd rather do with his time than act as a lab rat with gym equipment. But today... today it had been amazing. The armband he was wearing really had boosted his strength and stamina to super-human levels. He could run so fast the treadmill couldn't cope and lift weights Teal'c couldn't even begin to look at. All without even breaking a sweat. He stripped off his T-shirt and saw the damp patches under the arms and down the back. Okay maybe the 'not breaking a sweat' part wasn't quite accurate. But it was still extraordinary. And what was more, he felt... great!
He bent over to unlace his trainers, still jiggling his hips in time to the music in his head. 'Feel good'. Left hip jut. 'So good'. Right hip jut. Da da da da - do. Full pelvic thrust.
These armbands were absolutely incredible. He really felt like he could do... anything. Total adrenaline rush. The only time he'd ever felt anything like it was the buzz from the sarcophagus. Daniel shuddered at that memory and quickly pushed that particular incident out of his mind.
This was different. He was sure of it. This wasn't like being high, all illusion and false promises, this was real. His body could actually do things he'd only ever been able to dream about. Like reading a 600-page book in as many seconds. He'd worked his way through every book on his office shelves in two hours of frenzied rapture. Words just didn't start to come close how he felt!
Stuffing his socks into his trainers he wriggled his toes, enjoying the feel of the cold tiles beneath his feet. The pale grey sweat pants he was wearing came off with one smooth, fluid action. Moments later his wristwatch joined the pile of discarded clothing on the bench. Glancing at the time he realised he needed to get a move on, the locker room schedule would switch from male to female pretty soon.
The final item of clothing, a pair of soft cotton boxers the same colour as his eyes, came off with a flourish. Daniel pulled in a deep breath, relishing the feel of air against his sweat-glistened skin. Every nerve in his body was so finally tuned he could feel the faint draught of air coming from the ventilation shaft as its cooling breath caressed his naked body, causing the fine hairs on his arms and legs to stand erect. He pulled in a long breath, savouring the moment. Enjoying simply being alive.
Picking up his shower gel and tossing a towel over his left shoulder, he headed for the showers, the song once more running through his mind.
'I feel good...' He stepped into the connecting area between the locker room and the showers, and caught sight of himself in wall-to-wall mirror behind the row of the sinks. Ordinarily Daniel wasn't prone to studying his body - as part of an SGC field unit he considered it part of the job to keep himself in shape and had even built up a few muscles working out with Jack and Teal'c - but that was as about as far as his interest in fitness went. Today, though, as he caught sight of himself, he couldn't resist checking himself out.
He turned face on to the mirror, puffed out his chest, pulled in his gut. Not bad for a geek. He studied the alien device on his right forearm for a moment then turned his arm so the palm of his hand was towards him. With his elbow slightly bent, he formed a fist and tensed his muscles. A smile played on the face of his reflection as he admired his bicep muscle standing hard and proud. Not bad at all, he decided.
He jumped at the sound of Jack's voice, his shower gel skittering across the floor as it fell from his left hand. Oh shit! He'd been so engrossed it had never occurred to him someone might be around, but here was Jack - clearly having just come out of the far shower, a large white towel wrapped around his hips, his hair sticking up in damp spikes. Daniel hadn't seen any clothes in the locker area, but then Jack had the disgusting habit of tossing his dirty clothes into the bottom of his locker to fester. Double shit! Jack was smirking, that wide Cheshire cat grin that always signalled he'd scented sport.
"What ya doing, Daniel?"
Yep, there was no mistaking the expectant tone in Jack's voice. Daniel knew he was in for it big time.
"Errr..." He felt his face colour. Damn. Okay. He might just as well confess and get it over with. So he was flexing his muscles. Just how much mileage could Jack get out of that? Daniel groaned to himself as he answered his own question - probably enough to go coast-to-coast.
Uh-oh. Before he could form a sensible reply - apparently his newly acquired abilities didn't include being able to handle Jack O'Neill looking for fun - he discovered Jack had walked right up to him.
Jack nodded towards Daniel's upper arm. "Do that again."
"W...what?" The request took Daniel by surprise..
"Do it again. I want to see."
Reluctantly Daniel flexed his arm again. "Oww!" he protested as Jack pinched at his bicep.
"Puny," Jack said. ." He flexed his own arm. "Now this... this is a bicep worth showing off. Feel."
Daniel stared at him for a moment, still expecting open mockery at being caught flexing his muscles... Oh, just admit it. He'd been caught posing. In front of a mirror none the less. In the locker room.
Jack, however, seemed to be quite serious. He gave Daniel an impatient look. "C'mon. Feel it!"
Self-consciously Daniel squeezed Jack's biceps.
Jack's smirk widened. "Impressive, huh?"
Oh right. Daniel felt a wave of relief as he realised Jack was after sport of a different kind. So the colonel wanted to play one-upmanship, did he? Daniel considered a moment. "Not bad." He smiled sweetly, then casually added, "For a man of your age."
Jack's smirk vanished. "For a man of my age?" He glared at Daniel, the competitive gleam in his eyes sharpening. "Okay Muscle-boy, feast your eyes on this." Jack pushed his towel lower on his hips, puffed out his chest and tensed his stomach, revealing a perfectly formed six-pack of abdominal muscles. "And these have nothing to do with the armband - all my own work."
Daniel adopted what he hoped was an unimpressed expression. Okay Jack had him on the six pack but... He swivelled round so his back was to the colonel. Archaeological field work wasn't exactly a picnic and Daniel had spent more than his fair share of time carrying heavy backpacks and field equipment. He rolled his shoulders forward, tensing his arms.
"Hey, no swearing," Jack protested.
It was Daniel's turn to smirk. "That's the large muscle across my back."
Jack gave him a dark look. "I knew that." He studied Daniel's pose for a moment. "It's okay. Nothing to boast about."
"Oh really? Nothing to boast about." Daniel turned round, puffing out his chest. "I have pecs to die for."
Jack adopted a supercilious look. "They just look big because you don't have any chest hair."
"There's nothing wrong with not having chest hair," Daniel protested.
"That's not what most women say." Jack's smirk was back. "Ask Sean Connery."
"My grandfather was Dutch!"
"And?" Jack raised his eyebrows.
"So I don't come from hairy stock." Daniel pouted. "Stop trying to change the subject. Admit it. My trapezius and pecs easily outgun your abs."
"You haven't seen anything yet, Danny-boy." Jack didn't even hesitate as he whipped off his towel.
Daniel knew that years in the military had made Jack totally blasé about nudity, but even so his mouth dropped open as he wondered exactly where this competition was heading. He closed his jaws with an audible click as Jack turned side on.
The colonel flexed his leg and pointed to the well-developed groove running vertically down the outside of his thigh. "See that? That's caused by a well-developed vastus externus here..." He pointed to the front of his leg, "...and a rock solid biceps femoris here." He pointed to the rear of his leg. "And yes, I can do the Latin thing too."
Catching a glimpse of his own expression in the mirror, Daniel wiped the surprised look off his face. Damn. They'd done arms, shoulders, stomach, chest, and now legs. He twisted his head and peered over his right shoulder. Gluteus maximus? He slid what he hoped was a nonchalant glance at Jack's backside. He'd once overheard a couple of female officers describe Jack as callipygean - apparently they were studying Greek art in their off-duty. At least that was what they'd told him when he'd casually commented that the adjective wasn't one he'd come across before. As he started to work out what it meant, they'd made a hasty exit, and he'd quickly realised why.
He glanced at Jack's rear again and gave a small sigh. Damn. They'd been right, of course. Okay, so maybe he didn't quite have what it took to compete in that department, but...
Having admired the scenery for rather longer than she probably should have, Janet Fraiser decided she should really make her presence known. She'd spotted the discarded clothing in the locker room and had fully intended to call out a greeting of some sort in the shower area. However, the sight of Jack O'Neill and Daniel Jackson trying to out pose each other, both as naked as the day they were born, except of course for the Tok'ra armbands, had, quite literally, left her speechless.
That Jack O'Neill would indulge in a display of testosterone-induced flamboyance was no surprise. In Janet's opinion the man was incorrigible, quite how he managed to hold onto his commission frequently defied her. Daniel Jackson, however... She shook her head. If she'd wanted proof that the armbands were affecting the personalities of SG-1 this was as good as any.
Shelving her professional concerns for a moment she leaned against the wall in the archway through to the shower area and tried to adopt a suitably neutral expression. "Nice pose, Colonel O'Neill."
Two pairs of horrified eyes swung in her direction.
"Janet?!" Her name sounded in stereo, the shocked tones reverberating off the tiling
There was a sudden blur of activity as towels were whisked into place. Jack was the first to regain his composure. "What are you doing in here, doctor?"
Janet looked pointedly at her watch. "Well, gentlemen, female locker time started five minutes ago."
"Daniel," Jack growled menacingly, as he moved past Janet.
The archaeologist was blushing furiously as he followed Jack into the main locker area, his towel clutched tightly around his hips. "Jack?"
"Female locker time?"
"Hey, this isn't my fault," Daniel complained.
"You came in after me," Jack replied. "Didn't you know what time it was?"
"I had plenty of time to shower and go." Daniel pulled clean clothes from his locker, plus a can of deodorant. He sprayed the contents of the latter under his arms and across his chest, before glaring at Jack. "A shower which, by the way, I haven't had!"
"Oh? And I suppose that's my fault?"
Daniel gave Jack a sour look. "You're the one who started..." He made a frustrated gesture towards the showers.
"Me?" Jack gave a curt laugh. "Hey! I wasn't the one standing in front of the mirror posing like a Greek god."
"I was not posing!"
"Oh pur-lease. I quote 'I have pecs to die for'?"
Daniel's colour deepened as Janet failed to smother a snigger. Turning his back on her, he hurriedly pulled on his clothes. He glared at Jack. "Well just for the record I don't think your backside is at all callipygean."
"Excuse me?" Jack's eyebrows raised.
"Something wrong with your hearing?" Daniel asked scathingly as he headed into the corridor.
Tucking his shirt into his pants, Jack followed Daniel through the door. "Callipygean?"
Janet shook her head in bemusement as the argument continued out in the corridor, the voices growing quieter as the two men headed away from the locker room.
"Look it up in the dictionary, Jack."
"I will. In fact I'll read the whole damn dictionary. And I bet I can remember more words than you!"
"You know what? Sometimes you can be a little childish."
"Oh really? Well that's good coming from you, Doctor Candy-Bar Jackson."
"Hey! I don't hear you complaining when your mouth is full of chocolate on a mission!"
"Well, if my mouth is full..."
With a sigh Janet looked wistfully towards the shower room. Guess her shower would just have to wait. Unless she was very much mistaken she needed to have another word with General Hammond about the 'side effects' of Anise's little experiment. Her mind helpfully supplied her with technicolour images of the evidence that Colonel O'Neill and Doctor Jackson weren't quite themselves. She sighed again. No one ever understood the hardships she had to suffer as base physician.
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