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Joyce Summers, Den Mother

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Summary: PTB meddle, Ancients conspire, and Joyce wakes up married. Life could be weirder but she's not certain how.

Categories Author Rating Chapters Words Recs Reviews Hits Published Updated Complete
Stargate > Joyce-Centered > Pairing: Jack O'NeilltootsFR151822,2502423259,18526 Dec 111 Nov 12No

Chapter Eight

Author’s Note: I’ll try answering reviews tomorrow. Today’s going to be a busy day. Also, VillageOrchid, you called it, but I hope you enjoy it anyway. :)

Chapter Eight

Joyce frowned without opening her eyes. Something was wrong. Again. Jack sighed behind her and she stiffened. She twisted until she could see his face and screamed, flailing herself out of bed.

Jack jumped up, gun in hand, and she burst into hysterical laughter as his boxers slid down to his knees. And it was Jack. She recognized him from all the pictures his mother had shown her when they were dating. He just wasn’t her Jack.

“For cryin’ out loud, Joyce, what’s gotten into you?” he groused, tugging up his droopy drawers.

“Go look in the mirror,” she suggested, slapping a hand flat on the bedroom door when the kids tried swinging it open.

“Ma!” Faith called, anxious.

“I’ll explain in a minute,” she said calmly, watching Jack head for the bathroom. “You’re father’s just not…feeling like himself today.”

“Son of a bitch!” Jack’s shout echoed from the bathroom and Joyce bit back more hysterical laughter at both the pitch and the crack in his voice.

“Definitely not himself,” she murmured, then called, “Go ask Oz or Connor to bring some pants.”

Jack came out of the bathroom muttering, “I’m not that small.”

“Yes, dear, I’m afraid you are,” she said and it was possible that, now that the initial shock had worn off, she was having just a little too much fun.

Space Telemetry her ass.

There was a polite rap on the door and she accepted the jeans thrust at her, tossing them to Jack.

He pulled them on, grumbling and she said, “You know, I don’t feel nearly as bad about telling you things as I did before.”

“Are we really going to have that conversation now?” he asked, scowling as he pulled on the pants.

“Oh, no,” she said, shaking her head. “Who knows how this-,” she swept a finger from his head to his toe, “is going to affect your memory and I’m not having that conversation more than once.”

“My memory’s just fine, thank you,” he said, doing that grimace smile thing he did when he was annoyed.

“Sure,” she agreed. “But what if it gets shaky once you change back. And you better change back. I’m not being married to a fifteen year old. I love you but there’s only so much you can ask of me.”

He rolled his eyes as he said, “I’m going to change back. I just have to…go to work.”

Joyce snorted. “Okay. Let’s think this through. You’re in a fifteen year old’s body, your face doesn’t match your i.d., and you work with people that have guns. Why don’t we call the General and have him send someone, maybe a doctor to draw blood?”

He did that grimace grin again and said, “Well, if you want to be logical about it.”

She grinned and said, “Brace yourself. It’s going to be a long day.”

He scowled as she opened the door and went to check on the children.

“Mama, you’ve freaked out two mornings in a row,” Dawn said before stuffing a spoonful of Captain Crunch covered in strawberry milk and what was possibly Tabasco sauce into her mouth.

“I’ll work on that,” Joyce said, running a hand over Dawn’s hair. “Everybody please take it easy on your father. His day’s going to be bad enough without everybody commenting on his current…state.”

Eyebrows went up but questions were held off by Jack walking into the room with the phone held out.

“Joyce, the General wants to speak to you.” He grimaced-grinned. “He doesn’t believe it’s me.”

Joyce took the phone as Buffy’s face screwed up in horror. “Hello, General…Yes, I can assure you, it really is him.”

She watched the children as the General prattled on.

“Oh my God,” Buffy said. “Dad, is that you?” Jack waggled his fingers at her and Buffy said, “That’s just wrong.”

“What? Your mom was a looker in her day, too,” Jack said, then winced, eyes sliding towards her.

She just shook her head at him. Today, and today only, he would get a pass for anything unfortunate he said.

So weird,” Willow said, staring at him wide-eyed.

“And who says that?” Buffy demanded, still looking baffled about this whole situation. “And why are you fifteen? Were you fifteen when you went to bed?” She recoiled. “Oh, God. Mom slept with a teenager.”

“Oh, honestly, Buffy,” Joyce burst out, interrupting the General’s lecture on why it was wrong to encourage Jack’s prank. “General, if you’ll send someone, you’ll see that this isn’t just Jack trying to be funny.”

“Aliens,” Xander said randomly, pointing his spoon at Jack who’d nearly flailed himself from his lean against the buffet. “Space
Telemetry plus de-aging equals aliens.” He perked up. “Our dad’s an alien hunter!”

The General was spluttering in her ear even as Jack yelped, “No, I’m not!”

Joyce forgot the General, stabbing the phone in Jack’s direction. “Jonathon James O’Neill, tell me you’re not fighting aliens.”

“Of course not,” he said.

“Your left eyelid just twitched,” she said, feeling numb.

Jack O’Neill was a special ops trained pilot. He could lie like a rug when it suited him. Except to his wife. He could fudge the truth, sure, but he couldn’t outright lie to her because his body betrayed him.

“It did not,” he said, then clapped his hand over half his face when it betrayed him. “Damn it.”

“Aliens!” Xander crowed, delighted.

Joyce was in shock. Of all the things that could have been responsible, she hadn’t really considered aliens. She hung up on the General’s tinny shouting, pretty sure there’d be a team showing up sooner or later.

“Everybody go to school,” she said and everybody immediately turned on her with protests. She held up a hand and commanded, “Now.”

Something about the look on her face or about her tone must have convinced them because everybody but Jack scrambled. Joyce and Jack were left staring mutely at one another.
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