Driving Daniel

"Left, Vala! I said left!"
Exasperated was how Vala was feeling right now. Bad enough she had looked the word up before leaving the base, in anticipation of likely needing it to describe what sharing one of these little boxes with Daniel would be like, but now the word seemed oddly insufficient. Which left her infuriated, akin to exasperated but possibly with a little more oomph, depending on the moment it was describing.
Yes, Vala was definitely infuriated and exasperated about now. Perhaps even a little riled. She blew a defiant bang off her face, adjusted her grip on the wheel, and hissed, "I'm trying!"
"Well, try harder," Daniel insisted in a whiny little voice that she'd come to recognize as either him being upset with her or needing medical assistance. The later was looking more likely as the day progressed.
Vala scanned the way ahead, made note of various structures and potential hazards, and smoothly guided them along a route she deemed was less traveled.
"Not right! I said left. Left!"
"I know what left is, Daniel," she said sharply, virtually enunciating his name.
"You clearly don't or we wouldn't be turning right!"
And yet they continued to veer to the right, all of which got Daniel even more exasperated than Vala was at him for constantly correcting her.
"Left!" he yelled again, reaching forward out of his seat to grab on to the ledge in front of him. "Your other right!"
Oh! Right! Now she got it. "Left it is then," she said as she turned their little box in the other direction, barely in time to make the intersection and avoid crashing in to lots of other little boxes that beeped disapprovingly at her.
"Really, Daniel!" she said once she had corrected course and stopped their box from 'fish-tailing', as Daniel had called it under his breath. "You could try actually saying what you mean."
"I said left. Pretty sure I said it clearly enough to be heard in another country."
At least he had detached himself from the ledge and was now sitting back in his chair. Even some color had returned to his face.
They carried on their way, Daniel taking time to address various scenarios she should be aware of, quizzing on her on the functions of her little box. All very droll and boring.
And then there was a spot of water on the front viewscreen. And another. Then lots more.
"Ah?"
"It's nothing, Vala, just a bit of rain."
"Oh! Right!” Rain! They had covered the subject of what Teal'c called 'atmospheric precipitation' in one of their recent all-night sessions, as he tried to teach her the finer points of vehicular motion versus something he called Murphy's Law, of which she still couldn't get her head around.
"Um, Daniel?"
"Yeah?"
"Not to bring up a subject neither of us have had the best of experiences with, what with me having been host to Qetesh and you taking to preaching the good book on a galactic scale, but have you recently cleaned this little box?"
Daniel, shoulders slumped dejectedly and head dipped to his chest, said slowly, “It’s called a car, Vala. A car.”
“A car? Really, you couldn’t have called it something a little fancier? I mean, it hardly rolls off the tongue now, does it?”
“Vala!”
"What?” She studied him for a moment. A short moment. Eyes on the road, Mal Doran. "Your car, Daniel. Have you cleaned it?”
"Cleaned it?"
"Yes. You know. Applied a cleansing agent, wiped it off with some type of cloth. Much like a shower but with bubbles and big fluffy sponges."
"I know what cleaning is, and yes I have. Why?"
"Huh!   He was right." She nodded earnestly.
"What? Who was right?"
"Mr. Murphy. Did you know that washing your car signifies a rain dance to the gods of rain? It’s all there in his little book of laws."
"What the hell are you talking about?"
This was one answer that would have to wait, when the little box ahead of them suddenly turned without stating its intent, leaving Vala to scramble for the brakes, and lamenting her choice of stilettos over trainers.
"Vala! Stop!"
"I'm trying, Darling!"
In the end she settled for swerving right and going around the other little box, flipping the driver a well practiced and widely used finger gesture meant to convey annoyance, and accelerating away in her recently practiced and barely controlled fishtail motion. Satisfied she had defused the situation without the loss of the heel of her Prada, she adjusted her grip on the wheel and looked across at Daniel.
Who had his hands to his face and appeared to be crying.
"Daniel?"
"Don't... just... don't," came his muffled reply. "And keep your eyes on the road!"
"Well, I don't know about you, but I think I handled that situation quite well."
"You nearly killed us!" he said, sliding his hands down his face in a show of frustration. "I don't think I can do this anymore. You need someone with more patience and skill than me."
"But you came so highly recommended."
"By who?" The tone of Daniel's voice was getting higher and higher.
"Muscles! He said you taught him to drive in 1969. And, well, I figured with all that experience you had to have been good."
"1969?"
"I am curious about one thing, though."
"Only one?"
"Of many, darling, but just the one will do for now."
"Oh, go ahead," he said with a dismissive wave of a hand.
"You taught Teal'c to drive in 1969."
"I did, yes."
"At the age of four?"
The End

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