Fic: Piece of Cake (Team, gen)
Title: Piece of Cake
Fandom: Stargate: SG-1
Genre: Team, gen
Rating: G
Disclaimer: Not mine. Just playing.
Summary: All Daniel wanted to do was get Sam a birthday present. Then he called Jack.
Author's Notes: I wrote this a few years ago during my "goofy humor" phase. :D
This is a disaster waiting to happen.
I watch helplessly as Jack shuffles around his kitchen, opening cupboard doors and muttering to himself. Glancing over at Teal’c, I shrug. Teal’c raises one eyebrow, and then turns to watch Jack wrestle open a bag of sugar.
The day started out innocently enough. I called to remind Jack about Sam’s birthday, and to ask if he might want to come with me to hunt up a present. It’s not that I forgot Sam’s birthday. It’s just that we’ve been on a mission for the last two weeks, and so I haven’t had a chance to do any shopping. Really.
So, this morning, I called Jack, drove to the mountain to pick up Teal’c, and then headed over to Jack’s house. The original plan was to swing by Bath and Body Works, pick up a tasteful present, and take Sam out to dinner.
Then Jack switched gears on us.
“Why don’t we bake her a birthday cake?” Jack said cheerfully. “It’ll be fun.”
I tried to protest, but when Jack gets an idea into his head, a mother ship full of Jaffa can’t change his mind. So, here we are, in Jack’s kitchen attempting to build a chocolate cake from the ground up.
Jack glances over his shoulder. “Look lively kids! We got work to do.”
Biting my bottom lip, I walk to the counter and decisively scoot some silverware around. If I look like I have a purpose, maybe Jack will get busy and forget about me.
Every now and then, Jack gets these bursts of creative energy. The end result of these ingenious schemes generally involves me taking a trip to the infirmary, and Jack sheepishly explaining to Janet why his team’s archeologist is bleeding.
“Okay,” Jack says, as he claps his hands together. “I’ll take care of the chocolate. Teal’c, you beat this shortening.” He hands Teal’c a bowl. “Daniel, grease up this pan.”
Darn. Now I have a task.
I gingerly tear open the margarine and start to spread it evenly along the bottom and sides of the pan.
Teal’c stares at Jack. “O’Neill, why am I to strike the contents of this bowl?”
A laugh escapes my lips. “Good question, Jack.”
Jack points at me. “You, hush.” Then he turns to Teal’c. “T, buddy, when I said to beat the shortening, I meant stir it. Mix it up.”
“I see,” Teal’c says dubiously. He places the bowl on the table and stares intently at it. “O’Neill?”
“Yeah, T?”
“With what am I to stir the shortening?”
Jack nods. “Sorry, buddy. I’ll get you an electric mixer.”
My mind immediately starts to race with mental pictures of Teal’c approaching the mixing of the shortening with the same force and determination he puts into everything else. I watch as Teal’c carefully scrutinizes the mixer, holding it up as if it is a zat gun.
Suddenly, images of the bowl flying off the table and connecting with my head begin to hurtle toward me like portents of doom.
“Jack,” I say, my survival instincts kicking into high gear, “I’m done greasing the cake pan. Can I mix the shortening?”
“Daniel,” Jack says, “there’s plenty to do.” He points at Teal’c. “You don’t want to hurt T’s feelings by hoggin’ all the fun.”
“My feelings would be uninjured, O’Neill,” Teal’c says, a little too quickly.
Jack stares at us. Then he shrugs and sighs, “Well, Teal’c, I guess you can mix up the flour and salt and stuff.”
Teal’c nods and dutifully watches while Jack explains how to combine the dry ingredients.
“Jack, why didn’t we just buy a cake?” I ask, raising my voice to be heard above the mixer.
“Nah.” Jack says, as he turns up the heat on a pan of chocolate. “This comes from the heart, Daniel.”
I grin, “I think you just didn’t want to go to the mall.”
“There’s that, too.”
“Jack?”
“Yeah, Daniel?”
“I still think we should buy a cake. We’re not really skilled in the art of baking.”
Jack waves his hand in my direction. “I’m a terrific cook.”
I let out a breath. “Jack, the entirety of your culinary skills is your ability to put meat on a grill.”
“And you never complained about it.”
“Grilling is not baking.”
“I also roast a mean marshmallow.”
“That has no relevance to the baking of a cake.”
Jack puts his hands on his hips. “This’ll be a great cake. Help me out here, T.”
Teal’c motions to the cookbook. “DanielJackson is correct, O’Neill. I see nothing in these instructions about roasting marshmallows.”
“Thanks a lot.”
“Jack?” I say, turning off the mixer.
“Yeah, Daniel?”
“The chocolate’s burning.”
“For cryin’ out loud!” Jack pulls the pan off the stove and turns off the heat.
“Maybe we should call Janet. She’s great at this.”
“Janet is working. Besides, I have more chocolate. This is a minor glitch.” He hands me a carton of eggs and gestures at the shortening. “Put a couple of those in there.”
Reluctantly, I combine the eggs with the shortening. The entirety of my culinary skills consists of my ability to heat up frozen pizza. Well, and I can make omelets.
“Jack?” I say.
“Yeah, Daniel?”
“Maybe Sam would like an omelet.”
Jack narrows his eyes at me. “No omelets.”
“Okay.”
*****
“Now you see how easy that was?” Jack says, as we slump on the couch. “All we have to do is frost it up.”
I take a sip of coffee. “It’s lopsided.”
“It’ll be fine, Daniel.”
Teal’c walks into the living room. “O’Neill, what is the purpose of this device?”
Jack looks at the object in Teal’c’s hand. “That, T, is to write on the cake. You see, we put colored frosting into it, and Daniel can write ‘Happy Birthday’ or something.”
“Indeed.”
“Jack,” I say, sitting up. “Why do I have to write it?”
“You’re more artistic than us,” Jack says.
“No. No, I think Teal’c has a steadier hand.”
Teal’c gazes at me. Actually, I think it’s Teal’c’s version of a glare.
“Come on, Daniel.” Jack pats me on the knee. “I’m not asking for the Mona Lisa.” Jack leans back and crosses his arms. “You know,” he says. “We should draw a test tube or something on the cake.”
I frown. “A test tube?”
“Because she’s a scientist.”
“Well, it should be something more personal.”
“Like what?”
“A motorcycle. She likes motorcycles.”
“That is correct,” Teal’c says.
“Sweet,” Jack says. “Do a motorcycle.”
Suddenly, it dawns on me who the artist of this particular “masterpiece” is. “Actually, Jack, I think I should write ‘Happy Birthday.’”
“Nah. I like the motorcycle.” He clamps his hand onto my shoulder. “Come on, Rembrandt.”
*****
“Well, it looks…nice,” Jack says.
I gaze at the cake. “It looks like a blob.”
Jack pats me on the shoulder. “Nah. Look.” He points at the cake. “There’s the wheels, and there’s the seat. She’ll love it. We’ll tell her it’s abstract.”
Teal’c walks up to us. He looks down at the “motorcycle,” raises a eyebrow, and then turns to Jack. “O’Neill, MajorCarter is at the SGC. She is in the middle of a project.”
“Did you tell her we wanted to do something?”
“You requested that this endeavor remain a surprise.”
“Right.” Jack sighs. “Well, if Sam won’t come to the party, the party will go to her. Get the lid to the pan, Daniel.”
Nodding, I snap the lid onto the cake pan. Maybe this wasn’t such a bad idea. The cake looks pretty innocuous. I managed to talk Jack into running to the store and picking up a teddy bear for Sam while I was frosting the cake. And I’m not bleeding.
“Ready?” Jack asks.
“Ready.” I hand Jack the pan and pull on my jacket.
We walk out the front door and head for Jack’s truck. Sighing, Jack stops and turns toward the house. “Hang on. I forgot the car keys.”
“Here,” I hold up my hand. “Toss me the house key. I’ll get ‘em.”
Jack complies, and I run into the house to get the car keys. After pulling the front door closed, I turn to head back to the car. “Got ‘em,” I yell.
As I walk down the driveway, my foot catches on a loose chunk of cement. Like slow motion, my body falls forward, tumbling until my elbows crash into the driveway with a deafening thud.
*****
“Ow!”
“Just sit still, Daniel,” Janet commands.
I glance over Janet’s shoulder. Jack is standing a few feet away, his hands in his pockets and his eyes fixed on his shoes.
“Congratulations, Daniel,” Janet says.
“For what?” I ask.
“You hold the record for the most injuries not obtained in the line of duty.”
“I’ve been meaning to fix that driveway,” Jack says finally.
Janet glares at him.
Just then, Sam pokes her head into the infirmary. “An airman said you needed me?”
“Surprise!” I say.
“Daniel, what happened?” She rushes over to me.
Jack happened, I think.
“He took a header into my driveway,” Jack explains guiltily.
“Ouch,” Sam winces. She glances around the room. “I thought you guys were going out tonight.”
“Well, Carter,” Jack says. “A birthday dinner without the birthday girl would be kind of pointless.”
A look of surprise washes over her face. “I completely forgot. Isn’t that funny?”
“Hysterical,” I say.
“T,” Jack motions at Teal’c. “Get that cake over here.”
“Cake?” Sam asks. “You got me a cake?”
Teal’c walks over with the pan. “We constructed one, MajorCarter.”
“Maybe I should run some tests on it first,” Janet suggests.
“Very funny,” Jack says, narrowing his eyes at the doctor.
Sam lifts the lid off the cake. She stares at it for a moment, and then breaks into a smile. “A motorcycle!”
Jack cocks his head. “You can tell?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Well, thank Picasso over there.” Jack points at me. “The artistic responsibilities fell to him.”
Sam walks around the examining table and hugs both Teal’c and Jack. Then she comes up to me and places a kiss on my cheek. “Very nice, Daniel,” she says.
I glance up at Jack. He’s grinning victoriously. “So this wasn’t a bad idea, was it?”
“No,” I say. “It was a good idea.”
Jack nods.
As Teal’c hands Sam the teddy bear, Jack places a hand on my shoulder. “Just wait’ll your birthday,” he whispers.
Fandom: Stargate: SG-1
Genre: Team, gen
Rating: G
Disclaimer: Not mine. Just playing.
Summary: All Daniel wanted to do was get Sam a birthday present. Then he called Jack.
Author's Notes: I wrote this a few years ago during my "goofy humor" phase. :D
This is a disaster waiting to happen.
I watch helplessly as Jack shuffles around his kitchen, opening cupboard doors and muttering to himself. Glancing over at Teal’c, I shrug. Teal’c raises one eyebrow, and then turns to watch Jack wrestle open a bag of sugar.
The day started out innocently enough. I called to remind Jack about Sam’s birthday, and to ask if he might want to come with me to hunt up a present. It’s not that I forgot Sam’s birthday. It’s just that we’ve been on a mission for the last two weeks, and so I haven’t had a chance to do any shopping. Really.
So, this morning, I called Jack, drove to the mountain to pick up Teal’c, and then headed over to Jack’s house. The original plan was to swing by Bath and Body Works, pick up a tasteful present, and take Sam out to dinner.
Then Jack switched gears on us.
“Why don’t we bake her a birthday cake?” Jack said cheerfully. “It’ll be fun.”
I tried to protest, but when Jack gets an idea into his head, a mother ship full of Jaffa can’t change his mind. So, here we are, in Jack’s kitchen attempting to build a chocolate cake from the ground up.
Jack glances over his shoulder. “Look lively kids! We got work to do.”
Biting my bottom lip, I walk to the counter and decisively scoot some silverware around. If I look like I have a purpose, maybe Jack will get busy and forget about me.
Every now and then, Jack gets these bursts of creative energy. The end result of these ingenious schemes generally involves me taking a trip to the infirmary, and Jack sheepishly explaining to Janet why his team’s archeologist is bleeding.
“Okay,” Jack says, as he claps his hands together. “I’ll take care of the chocolate. Teal’c, you beat this shortening.” He hands Teal’c a bowl. “Daniel, grease up this pan.”
Darn. Now I have a task.
I gingerly tear open the margarine and start to spread it evenly along the bottom and sides of the pan.
Teal’c stares at Jack. “O’Neill, why am I to strike the contents of this bowl?”
A laugh escapes my lips. “Good question, Jack.”
Jack points at me. “You, hush.” Then he turns to Teal’c. “T, buddy, when I said to beat the shortening, I meant stir it. Mix it up.”
“I see,” Teal’c says dubiously. He places the bowl on the table and stares intently at it. “O’Neill?”
“Yeah, T?”
“With what am I to stir the shortening?”
Jack nods. “Sorry, buddy. I’ll get you an electric mixer.”
My mind immediately starts to race with mental pictures of Teal’c approaching the mixing of the shortening with the same force and determination he puts into everything else. I watch as Teal’c carefully scrutinizes the mixer, holding it up as if it is a zat gun.
Suddenly, images of the bowl flying off the table and connecting with my head begin to hurtle toward me like portents of doom.
“Jack,” I say, my survival instincts kicking into high gear, “I’m done greasing the cake pan. Can I mix the shortening?”
“Daniel,” Jack says, “there’s plenty to do.” He points at Teal’c. “You don’t want to hurt T’s feelings by hoggin’ all the fun.”
“My feelings would be uninjured, O’Neill,” Teal’c says, a little too quickly.
Jack stares at us. Then he shrugs and sighs, “Well, Teal’c, I guess you can mix up the flour and salt and stuff.”
Teal’c nods and dutifully watches while Jack explains how to combine the dry ingredients.
“Jack, why didn’t we just buy a cake?” I ask, raising my voice to be heard above the mixer.
“Nah.” Jack says, as he turns up the heat on a pan of chocolate. “This comes from the heart, Daniel.”
I grin, “I think you just didn’t want to go to the mall.”
“There’s that, too.”
“Jack?”
“Yeah, Daniel?”
“I still think we should buy a cake. We’re not really skilled in the art of baking.”
Jack waves his hand in my direction. “I’m a terrific cook.”
I let out a breath. “Jack, the entirety of your culinary skills is your ability to put meat on a grill.”
“And you never complained about it.”
“Grilling is not baking.”
“I also roast a mean marshmallow.”
“That has no relevance to the baking of a cake.”
Jack puts his hands on his hips. “This’ll be a great cake. Help me out here, T.”
Teal’c motions to the cookbook. “DanielJackson is correct, O’Neill. I see nothing in these instructions about roasting marshmallows.”
“Thanks a lot.”
“Jack?” I say, turning off the mixer.
“Yeah, Daniel?”
“The chocolate’s burning.”
“For cryin’ out loud!” Jack pulls the pan off the stove and turns off the heat.
“Maybe we should call Janet. She’s great at this.”
“Janet is working. Besides, I have more chocolate. This is a minor glitch.” He hands me a carton of eggs and gestures at the shortening. “Put a couple of those in there.”
Reluctantly, I combine the eggs with the shortening. The entirety of my culinary skills consists of my ability to heat up frozen pizza. Well, and I can make omelets.
“Jack?” I say.
“Yeah, Daniel?”
“Maybe Sam would like an omelet.”
Jack narrows his eyes at me. “No omelets.”
“Okay.”
*****
“Now you see how easy that was?” Jack says, as we slump on the couch. “All we have to do is frost it up.”
I take a sip of coffee. “It’s lopsided.”
“It’ll be fine, Daniel.”
Teal’c walks into the living room. “O’Neill, what is the purpose of this device?”
Jack looks at the object in Teal’c’s hand. “That, T, is to write on the cake. You see, we put colored frosting into it, and Daniel can write ‘Happy Birthday’ or something.”
“Indeed.”
“Jack,” I say, sitting up. “Why do I have to write it?”
“You’re more artistic than us,” Jack says.
“No. No, I think Teal’c has a steadier hand.”
Teal’c gazes at me. Actually, I think it’s Teal’c’s version of a glare.
“Come on, Daniel.” Jack pats me on the knee. “I’m not asking for the Mona Lisa.” Jack leans back and crosses his arms. “You know,” he says. “We should draw a test tube or something on the cake.”
I frown. “A test tube?”
“Because she’s a scientist.”
“Well, it should be something more personal.”
“Like what?”
“A motorcycle. She likes motorcycles.”
“That is correct,” Teal’c says.
“Sweet,” Jack says. “Do a motorcycle.”
Suddenly, it dawns on me who the artist of this particular “masterpiece” is. “Actually, Jack, I think I should write ‘Happy Birthday.’”
“Nah. I like the motorcycle.” He clamps his hand onto my shoulder. “Come on, Rembrandt.”
*****
“Well, it looks…nice,” Jack says.
I gaze at the cake. “It looks like a blob.”
Jack pats me on the shoulder. “Nah. Look.” He points at the cake. “There’s the wheels, and there’s the seat. She’ll love it. We’ll tell her it’s abstract.”
Teal’c walks up to us. He looks down at the “motorcycle,” raises a eyebrow, and then turns to Jack. “O’Neill, MajorCarter is at the SGC. She is in the middle of a project.”
“Did you tell her we wanted to do something?”
“You requested that this endeavor remain a surprise.”
“Right.” Jack sighs. “Well, if Sam won’t come to the party, the party will go to her. Get the lid to the pan, Daniel.”
Nodding, I snap the lid onto the cake pan. Maybe this wasn’t such a bad idea. The cake looks pretty innocuous. I managed to talk Jack into running to the store and picking up a teddy bear for Sam while I was frosting the cake. And I’m not bleeding.
“Ready?” Jack asks.
“Ready.” I hand Jack the pan and pull on my jacket.
We walk out the front door and head for Jack’s truck. Sighing, Jack stops and turns toward the house. “Hang on. I forgot the car keys.”
“Here,” I hold up my hand. “Toss me the house key. I’ll get ‘em.”
Jack complies, and I run into the house to get the car keys. After pulling the front door closed, I turn to head back to the car. “Got ‘em,” I yell.
As I walk down the driveway, my foot catches on a loose chunk of cement. Like slow motion, my body falls forward, tumbling until my elbows crash into the driveway with a deafening thud.
*****
“Ow!”
“Just sit still, Daniel,” Janet commands.
I glance over Janet’s shoulder. Jack is standing a few feet away, his hands in his pockets and his eyes fixed on his shoes.
“Congratulations, Daniel,” Janet says.
“For what?” I ask.
“You hold the record for the most injuries not obtained in the line of duty.”
“I’ve been meaning to fix that driveway,” Jack says finally.
Janet glares at him.
Just then, Sam pokes her head into the infirmary. “An airman said you needed me?”
“Surprise!” I say.
“Daniel, what happened?” She rushes over to me.
Jack happened, I think.
“He took a header into my driveway,” Jack explains guiltily.
“Ouch,” Sam winces. She glances around the room. “I thought you guys were going out tonight.”
“Well, Carter,” Jack says. “A birthday dinner without the birthday girl would be kind of pointless.”
A look of surprise washes over her face. “I completely forgot. Isn’t that funny?”
“Hysterical,” I say.
“T,” Jack motions at Teal’c. “Get that cake over here.”
“Cake?” Sam asks. “You got me a cake?”
Teal’c walks over with the pan. “We constructed one, MajorCarter.”
“Maybe I should run some tests on it first,” Janet suggests.
“Very funny,” Jack says, narrowing his eyes at the doctor.
Sam lifts the lid off the cake. She stares at it for a moment, and then breaks into a smile. “A motorcycle!”
Jack cocks his head. “You can tell?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Well, thank Picasso over there.” Jack points at me. “The artistic responsibilities fell to him.”
Sam walks around the examining table and hugs both Teal’c and Jack. Then she comes up to me and places a kiss on my cheek. “Very nice, Daniel,” she says.
I glance up at Jack. He’s grinning victoriously. “So this wasn’t a bad idea, was it?”
“No,” I say. “It was a good idea.”
Jack nods.
As Teal’c hands Sam the teddy bear, Jack places a hand on my shoulder. “Just wait’ll your birthday,” he whispers.