(Um, this is kind of more a tag to "Crystal Skull" than "Threads", but it's what came out. Also, I don't think they ever said where the real diner was, so we're going to pretend it's someplace near where Daniel & Vala live...)
"Daddy, why do you always order waffles when we come here?"
Daniel looked up at his youngest child. Physically, Vivienne was practically Vala's double, pigtails and all, except for her blue eyes. But, as her mother kept reminding him, their daughter's personality was all Daniel. At the age of five, she could speak seven languages, including Goa'uld, and often helped her father with his translations.
She was gazing at him over her strawberry-covered pancakes, head tiled as she waited for an answer.
He smiled. "Maybe I just like waffles."
Vivienne arched one eyebrow. "Daddy, don't be silly."
Daniel sighed. He had never lied to his children— bent the truth sometimes, but never lied— and he wasn't about to start now.
"When I was a little older than you, Viv," he said, "my parents, your grandparents, were in an accident at their museum and they died. And my grandfather, your Great-Grandpa Nick, brought me to this diner and told me that he wasn't going to be able to take me to live with him. And I had waffles."
Vivienne tilted her head the other way, thinking hard. "So..." she said, slowly. "You had waffles when Great-Grandpa Nick told you bad news. Why do you eat them now?"
"Because," Daniel told her with a smile. "Many, many years later, your mother brought me to this diner and told me that we were going to have your big sister, Zoë. And I had waffles."
"Mommy made waffles a good thing, then," said Vivienne. "She can make almost anything more fun."
"Yes, she can," Daniel agreed. "Even waffles."
"Yep. But I still like pancakes better."
He laughed. "Well, you'd better eat up, then. Because I've got a translation to do, and I'm going to need an assistant."
Vivienne grinned broadly. "You can count on me, Daddy."
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timeasmymeasure
Fill: "Waffles", G
Date: 2010-12-24 08:00 am (UTC)"Daddy, why do you always order waffles when we come here?"
Daniel looked up at his youngest child. Physically, Vivienne was practically Vala's double, pigtails and all, except for her blue eyes. But, as her mother kept reminding him, their daughter's personality was all Daniel. At the age of five, she could speak seven languages, including Goa'uld, and often helped her father with his translations.
She was gazing at him over her strawberry-covered pancakes, head tiled as she waited for an answer.
He smiled. "Maybe I just like waffles."
Vivienne arched one eyebrow. "Daddy, don't be silly."
Daniel sighed. He had never lied to his children— bent the truth sometimes, but never lied— and he wasn't about to start now.
"When I was a little older than you, Viv," he said, "my parents, your grandparents, were in an accident at their museum and they died. And my grandfather, your Great-Grandpa Nick, brought me to this diner and told me that he wasn't going to be able to take me to live with him. And I had waffles."
Vivienne tilted her head the other way, thinking hard. "So..." she said, slowly. "You had waffles when Great-Grandpa Nick told you bad news. Why do you eat them now?"
"Because," Daniel told her with a smile. "Many, many years later, your mother brought me to this diner and told me that we were going to have your big sister, Zoë. And I had waffles."
"Mommy made waffles a good thing, then," said Vivienne. "She can make almost anything more fun."
"Yes, she can," Daniel agreed. "Even waffles."
"Yep. But I still like pancakes better."
He laughed. "Well, you'd better eat up, then. Because I've got a translation to do, and I'm going to need an assistant."
Vivienne grinned broadly. "You can count on me, Daddy."