Author's Note: Inspired by One False Step

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"No, no, no, no, no!"

Daniel felt the reverberations from the floor cascade upwards through his leg. He stared down at his feet in shock, then snapped his head up to meet the stunned gaze of his friend and team leader.

"You did not just do that," Jack said in disbelief.

Daniel, completely embarrassed but determined to hide it folded his arms across his chest and met Jack's gaze. "No."

"Oh, you so did."

"No I didn't. And even if I did, you shouldn't have forced me to do it."

"Forced you? All I said was…"

"I know what you said, Jack, and you couldn't be more wrong."

"And my being wrong constitutes that…fit?"

"It wasn't a fit."

"Looked like a fit."

"It wasn't. I was merely conveying to you the importance of what I had to say."

"You sure it wasn't some ancient ritual I don't know about? Because you gotta know, kids have been doing it for ages and I can't think of a single case where it worked."

"I'm not a kid."

"I would have agreed with you until a minute ago. But I'm going to have to put my foot down on this one, Daniel."

"Jack!"

"Seriously, let's just try to stamp out those hostile feelings you've got going, buddy."

"Jack, so help me…"

"All I'm saying is you might want to tread softly."

"All right, that's it!" He lunged at Jack who ducked backwards with a laugh and leaped up the stairs to the deck of his house before Daniel could catch him.

"Wouldn't want you to take a false step!" Jack shouted out to him as he disappeared inside the house, leaving Daniel alone on the back lawn, in charge of the team's steaks on the barbecue.

A moment later Jack reappeared with two new bottles of beer, offering one to Daniel as a gesture of truce. Daniel grabbed it from his hand sulkily and took a long drink. "You just like getting me drunk," he pouted.

Jack grinned and gave him a comradely slap on the back, then ruffled his hand through Daniel's hair. "You're such a cute drunk."

"I am not!" Daniel shouted defensively and felt another shockwave through his leg. "And quit doing that!" he yelled at his right foot.

The foot that kept petulantly stomping the ground when he didn't get his way.

He groaned as Jack burst out laughing.

"And Sam does not like her steak medium rare."

"Whatever you say, Dannyboy."

He knew he shouldn't have drunk that second beer.