Disclaimer- Not mine, however much I wish it were. I just dream.
A/N- This randomly popped into my head while I was doing dishes. No idea why. Just, "pop" and there is was. Really should get my sanity checked...
Daniel Jackson wandered down the hall towards the gym, trying to finish off his latest cup of coffee before he arrived for his weekly sparing match with Teal'c.
Opening one of the double doors to the padded room, he stopped dead, cup hovering almost to his mouth poring the last of its contents onto his cotton tee. Jaw dropping, he tried to comprehend what he was seeing.
In the middle of the room was Colonel Jack O'Neill standing toe to toe with one General George Hammond. This in its self would not have been strange, if not for the fact that Jack had one hand on the General's shoulder and the other held in the other mans hand.
"One more time, Jack," George said pulling O'Neill into motion again, his eyes firmly on their feet, "One, two, three. One, two, three."
The two men started a stuttering shuffle that Daniel assumed was supposed to be a waltz around the room. A grin pulled at his lips as he heard Jack start humming, badly, the 'Sleeping Beauty Waltz'.
Throughout the slow circuit around the room the General trod on Jack's toes repeatedly causing him to wince and George to mutter an apology, yet they still continued. Daniel had to admire their dedication and wondered silently how long he could stand there without them noticing. He bit his lip trying to keep his humor in check.
After a particularity bad misstep, one that had Jack bouncing up and down on one foot while clutching the other, Daniel let out the bark of laughter that had been threatening to break free. The General's head snapped around, his face glowing red with embarrassment, while Jack glared.
"How long you been there?" Jack demanded, putting his foot down, gingerly testing it too see if it would hold his weight.
"Oh, somewhere around 'one, two, three' and you butchering Tchaikovsky." Daniel stated, grinning at the two men, his empty cup swinging around in his hand as he spoke.
Jack grunted, looking back down at his feet to hide his now cherry face.
"I don't believe I have to remind you, Doctor Jackson, of the confidentiality agreement that you signed when you first joined this program?" General Hammond stated, finally gathering his scattered wit.
Daniel lifted his eyebrows once before they pulled into a slight frown, "No, sir?"
"Good, then I don't have to remind you of what would happen if this got out," George smiled slightly, a wicked twinkle finding its way to his eye, "It could be... most unpleasant."
The humor faded quickly from Daniel's face, "Sir?"
"Yeah, Danny-boy," Jack leered, "Just think of all the shiny new Jar-head's that need to be briefed. How many new recruits we gettin', General? Fifty?"
"Fifty-two," Hammond replied, smiling pleasantly at the paling Doctor.
"Uh, yeah..." Jackson backed away from the men, "I, uh, have some... uh... work... yeah... work. Translations... you know. Won't do themselves!" He threw a quick smile and beat a quick retreat out the door.
"Nicely done, Sir!" Jack rocked back on his heals, giving the General a cheeky grin.
"Part of the job description. Need to keep the men in check." He held out his hands, "Shall we continue?"
Jack looked around, trying to find an excuse out of this. Silently hoping for an incoming wormhole. When nothing saw fit to rescue him and his aching toes, he reluctantly took the older mans hand, feeling the other settle on his waist.
"When is your daughter getting married, again?" He asked as they made yet another stumbling round.
"Next week," Hammond replied, eyes on their feet, muttering, "One, two, three," uselessly once again.
"Oy." Jack grunted, his abused feet screaming at him as they were once again stepped upon.
A gasp and cough covered chuckle announced the arrival of Sam Carter and Walter Harriman.
"Oh, fer cryin' out loud..."
I live and breathe reviews. Good. Bad. I'll take them. Feed the muse. Love the muse.