TITLE: The Trouble with Jack

AUTHOR: Cyn(di)

EMAIL: custardpringle@yahoo.com

RATING: PG for language

CATEGORY: Humor, drama

SUMMARY: Jack's stapler fetish is getting worse, and Siler is developing a terrible case of corridor rage. When the two cross, it ain't pretty.

SPOILERS: none, thank goodness. (See, Jess, the Commandments remain intact for the nonce.)

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I'm enjoying this story far more than can possibly be healthy.

And no, I'm not trying to imply anything negative about Jack's mental health. Really.

BTW: I'm now on spring break. Which means I'm going to be posting out the wazoo, and may even have this story done within the next week. A sequel to "The Lost Ones" (a story you, Zork, no doubt avoided like the plague, not that I blame you) should be appearing soon after that.

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Daniel smiled disarmingly, mentally calculating the odds that he and Sam could successfully get past Jack—and Teal'c, he now saw—and out the door without being severely maimed in the process. They weren't good. "Ummm . . . looking for snacks?"

-----

Over the past couple of days, Siler had found it more and more difficult to get into his closet. By now, it was practically impossible. In order to get himself in without releasing the swarm of creatures inside, he had to crack the door open, slip inside, and shove it shut as fast as humanly possible. On this occasion, though, he was far less displeased about it than he might have been.

"Hello there," he said happily, and was rewarded with cheerful chirping in response from what now amounted to nearly two hundred tribbles, and would have been more had he not stopped feeding them entirely. "Guess what, you guys. You're finally getting out of here."

The tribbles seemed to crowd closer hopefully.

Siler rubbed his hands together in gleeful anticipation. "Let's see, now. This is going to take a while. I'll need a couple of volunteers to start with, all right?"

Having no way to tell which of the tribbles actually were volunteering, he grabbed a few at random and stuffed them into the transport case he'd brought with him. Carefully navigating across the cramped space, Siler yanked the grille from the ventilation tube, hefted the case up to it, and pulled himself in behind it, replacing the grille behind him to prevent any of the others from getting out just yet. "I'll be right back," he promised. "Most of you should be getting out of here today . . . the rest will be free soon."

The tribbles were much lighter than Siler had anticipated, and it took surprisingly little time before he and the large transport case arrived outside O'Neill's office. However, when he peered cautiously out of the tube, it became obvious that there would be quite a wait before he could execute his plan. Not only was O'Neill there, but the rest of his team was with him as well.

Siler and his tribbles settled themselves down for a good long wait.

-----

"Looking for snacks," Jack repeated disbelievingly, folding his arms across his chest. "Tell me something, T. Have you ever known Daniel to be looking for snacks in my office, rather than the other way around?"

"I have not," Teal'c agreed readily. "Nor have I ever known Major Carter to resort anywhere other than the commissary for snack food."

"Oh, come on, Teal'c," Sam argued indignantly. "Do you really think I'm that honest?"

Teal'c considered this for a minute. "I have found on several occasions that the stores of food in my quarters were mysteriously depleted. However, I was under the impression that O'Neill was responsible."

"Me?" Jack shook his head. "I only steal food from Daniel. Which brings us to the original question of what you two are doing in here in the first place, now we've established that you're not actually looking for food."

"Fine," Daniel raised his hands in surrender and prepared to do the best job of lying he possibly could. "We were passing by and noticed your door was open. I was going to close it for you when Sam noticed that all your paperwork was done. So we figured there was probably a gnome or something hidden under the desk, and decided to hunt it down before it did something more destructive."

"A gnome?" Teal'c arched an eyebrow in confusion.

"A midget," Jack explained tersely. "Believe it or not—wipe that smirk off your face, Major—I actually do my own paperwork once in a while. Is that really so hard to accept?"

"Considering your previous track record, sir," Sam answered, "yes, I'd say it is."

"Fine, be that way." Jack heaved a sigh. "So long as you aren't trying to plant a bomb in here or anything like that."

Siler drew forward silently in the shaft, sensing that the conversation was drawing to a close, and caught a hastily suppressed flicker of glee crossing Sam's face as she contemplated the aftermath of planting a bomb in her commanding officer's desk.

"If Major Carter and Daniel Jackson are so hungry," Teal'c observed with the straightest face imaginable, "perhaps they would find it preferable to accompany us to the commissary, where food is far more likely to be available."

"Sounds like a plan, Teal'c." Sam let out a sigh of relief so faint that only Daniel heard it. "Lead the way."

"Wonderful," Jack said plaintively, even as they walked out of the office and he closed the door behind him. "I can't even remember why I came here in the first place. I'm telling ya, you two are making me old before my time."

Siler listened carefully for a minute, making sure the room was definitely abandoned, and then slid out of the ventilator shaft, pulling the case of tribbles after him to make sure it didn't fall.

Once safely inside, he looked around the otherwise deserted office with satisfaction. "Just got organized, hey, Jack?" He chuckled softly at this secret show of insubordination. "Hope you enjoyed it while it lasted."

The sergeant bent down and clicked the latch of the transport case open.