SGC Briefing Room, 0740 Hours
Teal'c stared levelly at the bald-headed man at the head of the table.
"General Hammond, I assure you that I am in perfect health."
"I dunno, T," Jack said thoughtfully, his eyes dancing with mirth. "I reckon you need to get that checked out."
There was a strangled snort from the side of him, as Sam struggled to keep a straight face. At the other end of the table, Daniel was slowly turning purple from his efforts not to break out into hysterical laughter.
Teal'c turned his head to look straight at his CO. His eyes narrowed slightly as he glared at the man he believed to be the perpetrator of this…joke. Jack sobered his expression, the laughter draining from his eyes like water, as he stared impassively back. A battle of wills ensued.
The deadlock was broken by General Hammond clearing his throat. Teal'c blinked slowly before giving him his full attention.
"All the same Teal'c, I believe it would be for the best if you report to Dr. Frasier before accompanying SG-1 on this mission."
Teal'c frowned, repressing the desire to sigh heavily at the stupidity of this situation, before reluctantly inclining his head and submitting to the request. General Hammond was his superior officer in these matters. He had sworn service to the Tau'ri, therefore he must accede to the demands of his leaders, however ridiculous they may seem at times.
He turned his head and gave his team leader a long cool look, promising him dire consequences in return for this humiliation. Then he stood gracefully and giving a polite bow of his head in acknowledgement, strode out of the room with his head held high. An effort to maintain as much dignity as possible.
o0o
Concurrent with Teal'c exiting stage left, there was a loud thump as Daniel's head hit the table. All attention in the room shifted from the doorway to focus on the team's resident archaeologist. His tousled mop of brown hair rocked back and forth, face buried in his arms and shoulders shaking. General Hammond looked on in concern.
"Are you alright, Doctor Jackson?"
Daniel gave a wheezing noise, before raising one hand off the table and flapping it weakly in the air.
"Fine." He choked. "'m fine…"
Hammond opened his mouth to enquire further, only to be interrupted by a high-pitched giggle. He turned his head back to stare at the other two members of SG-1 in astonishment, just in time to see Major Carter's head vanishing under the table. He blinked.
What in god's name was she doing?
Raising his head slightly, he was able to see over the edge of the opposite side of the table. She was bent almost double in her seat, her shoulders also shaking. He gave the man sat next to her a querying look, only to receive a 'ya got me', shrug of his shoulders in return. He obviously didn't understand the problem either. Or he was doing a good job of hiding it. He peered back down over the edge of the table again. The Major's head was rocking back and forth, an occasional muffled squeaking sound escaping. Hammond cleared his throat.
"Major Carter?" He queried.
No response.
"Major Carter!"
The Major shot upright in her seat, an involuntary giggle leaving her lips as she swiped at her eyes with one hand. Her face was bright red. She gave him a guilty look, as she placed a pen down on the table. "Sorry sir, I – uh, dropped my pen."
Jack snorted. 'You dropped your pen?'
Sam turned her head to glare at him. 'Oh please, like you could think of anything better!'
Down at the other end of the table Daniel burst into renewed sniggers. Hammond stared at Sam for a long moment, his intense gaze making her shift nervously in her seat when she noticed. Her eyes darted everywhere else around the room, but wouldn't hold his gaze. Daniel's laughter gradually degraded into hiccups.
Hammond moved his gaze down to stare at the papers on the table before him, tapping his pen lightly. He rapidly was starting to understand the reason behind the long-suffering expressions on the faces of Tessa and Kayla's school teachers. As he slowly shook his head, trying very hard to dispel the image of a high-school teacher disciplining unruly students, he heard faint whispering from the other side of the table.
"Now look what you've done!"
"What? It's not my fault! I didn't do anything!"
Hammond closed his eyes in weary resignation. God help him. They'd regressed into teenagers.
o0o
The beginnings of what felt like it would be a monster headache began making itself known as Hammond mentally counting to ten. Across the table, the hushed bickering continued unabated, only to be interrupted by the occasional loud hiccup. Deciding he really ought to take control of this situation and get them the hell out of his briefing room before this degenerated any further, he reluctantly opened his eyes.
The hushed whispers died away, as he glared across the table into the smirking countenance of the man he'd privately decided was the ringleader behind the practical jokes in recent years. For a fleeting moment, Hammond seriously considered locking him in the brig until the day was over. In fact he might lock up the whole damn lot of them, just to make absolutely sure.
The man's expression changed to a picture of innocence, as if aware of the direction his thoughts were taking and Hammond sighed inwardly. One briefing, he just had to make it through one briefing…then he could go hide out in his office for the rest of the day.
An evil thought occurred to him and he couldn't resist a small smirk of his own at the thought, causing a worried expression to flicker over the face of the man in front of him. Maybe he could find an excuse to be somewhere else – anywhere else – next year. Let him deal with April Fool's day at the SGC, for a change. That'd teach him. Hammond made a mental note to file the idea away for the future.
As for this year…Hammond's face brightened considerably as he realised that with any luck, none of them would be around for much more of it. He cleared his throat and turned a stern look on his 2IC.
"Colonel, I trust I can rely on your team to show nothing but the utmost professional behaviour whilst off-world?"
O'Neill visibly sobered, straightening up in his chair. Unfortunately his attempt to show true professionalism was somewhat ruined by the derisive snort, followed by a hiccup, from his colleague at the end of the table. The Colonel shot Daniel a filthy sideways look and cleared his throat in turn.
"Professional behaviour! Yessir, guarantee it!"
Hammond took a long hard look at the team in front of him. The Colonel with a deadpan expression, the red-faced Major who looked like she was about to burst from suppressed laughter and the highly qualified civilian. Who was currently waving his glasses around in one hand and swiping at tears of hysteria with the other, in an effort to stop his laughing jag. Not for the first time, he wondered how in the hell they'd managed to save the entire planet on more occasions than he could remember.
He opened his mouth to deliver a warning…then hesitated as Daniel launched into another round of sniggering. And hiccups. Hammond promptly decided he really didn't have the energy to deal with this and waved a weak hand in dismissal.
""Very well, you have a go. Dismissed."
He watched in bemusement as the remaining members of SG-1 leapt out of their chairs and virtually hurled themselves out of the briefing room, in an effort to leave as quickly as possible. Moments later, echoes of howling laughter could be heard from the corridor outside the control room, followed by:
"Did you see the look of disgust on his face?! I soo have to get me a copy of that off the security cameras - priceless!"
"Oh my god! I think I broke a rib…"
"Yeah…and what did I tell you about giggling, anyway?!"
o0o
Hammond shook his head wearily as he levered himself up out of his chair.
Pffft!
Hammond froze. The farting sound echoed loudly in the now silent room. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the SF on guard duty shaking with the effort of not laughing out loud. Hammond closed his eyes in frustration and mentally counted to ten, refusing to rise to the bait.
Opening his eyes again, he calmly gathered together his papers and shooting the unfortunate SF a severe glare, he stalked out of the room with as much dignity as he could muster.
Reaching his office, he grabbed the handle of the door and promptly let out a sound that remarkably resembled Sam Carter's earlier high-pitched girlie squeak. He yanked his hand back at the slimy sensation. Then cautiously looked around to see if anyone had noticed his less than dignified-General-like behaviour. It appeared no-one had, thank god. Or if they did, then they were doing a good job of ignoring it. Ah, the advantages of being a high-ranking officer. Everyone was too concerned about their careers to mention your occasional moments of stupidity. At least not to your face.
He looked down at his blue-slime covered hand and sighed. Ugh. He hated slime! It was just so…slimy. He shook his hand vigorously. No, a tissue was going to be needed. Whatever the hell it was, it clung well, he'd say that for it. He shuddered and waved his hand around again, in an effort to Get. It. Off. Him, without having to touch anymore of it than he absolutely had to. He caught the vague tang of mint as he flapped his hand back and forth. Hang on…mint? He brought his hand slightly closer to his face – didn't want to get to close to the stuff – and sniffed carefully. It smelled like…
Toothpaste! Oh for the love of god…
o0o