Rigel (n) : awesomesaucery

Just a teeny ficlet! (Also why do I not have any Jack and Teal'c icons *wails*)

Title: Smooth Pebble
Author: Rigel
Fandom: Stargate SG-1
Disclaimer: Not mine (alas!) Don’t sue!
Rating: G
Categories: Jack and Teal’c friendship, Gen
Wordcount: 498
A/N: Written for angelsgracie, chicken soup for the fannish soul - Feel better soon! :D

“It’s more of a flicking motion, like this.” Jack demonstrated again, twisting his wrist slowly to emphasise the precise movement. “You kind of snap it at the last moment, and if you get the right angle, then it’s all sweet from there.”

He cast the stone, and it skimmed the surface of the water, small overlapping ripples forming in its wake before it sank from sight.

Teal’c weighed the flat pebble in his palm. It was worn smooth on both sides, polished by river currents until it took on a silken sheen, and had taken the heat from his body; almost like a living thing. He curled his fingers around it and swung his arm, casting it in a wide arc upon the lake. It skittered briefly before splashing to a premature death, not at all like the dancing motion that Jack had imparted to his own stone.

“Try it again, this time let it go about a quarter second earlier. Angle it downward and flick.” He mimed the motion again, and then fished into his pocket drawing out more flat pebbles. “Here,” he handed two to Teal’c and stood turning another one over in his hand.

The wooden planks of the dock were sun-warmed beneath their bare feet; the timber had turned to a silvered grey in places, but in the deeper cracks the true colour still glinted here and there. Teal’c curled his toes with pleasure, concentrating on the awareness of sensing the world through the soles of his feet. He cast the stone, flicking his wrist as Jack had shown him, and managed a respectable three skips before the momentum petered out. The corners of his eyes crinkled with delight.

“Just like that,” Jack said, hurling his own pebble. It made a shirring sound against the water, ripples bisecting the fading lines created by previous stones.

“It is as you say, all in the technique, O’Neill.”

“And a bit of practice.”

“Indeed.”

“It’s not unlike casting a line, really, when you think about it.” Teal’c made no immediate answer, so he continued, “it’s all in the wrist.”

“Perhaps that is so.” Teal’c tilted his head to catch the fading afternoon light against his skin. “It seems more likely though, that we will catch these fish by use of the rocks.”

Jack snorted. “Probably,” he lowered himself back into his foldout chair, “but I told you before, it’s about the fishing, not the catching.” Teal’c said nothing, but a hint of amusement played across his features. “Think about it more as a metaphor for life, you’ll agree with me one of these days.” He leaned back, one eye on the line that lay still and unmoving near the reeds.

Teal’c thumbed his remaining pebble and watched the midges floating in small clouds over the water. The sky on the horizon deepened to a saffron glow which was reflected doubly by the mirrored surface of the lake.

He pocketed the smooth pebble, and sat next to Jack.