New fic: Sleeping Dogs
Title: Sleeping Dogs
Author: Pepper
Rating: G
Season: Eh... fiveish.
Featured Character(s): Jack, Hammond, Paul Davis
Pairing(s): None
Summary: Colonel O'Neill turns his mind to... admin?
A/N: I had a quiet moment, so... For
linnet_101, in hopes it helps to ease the suffering. ;)
---
"Colonel O'Neill, it has come to my attention that you allow your mind to wander during the monthly Operations Functionality Meeting. Last month you were actually heard to snore."
"But sir, I-"
"And when nudged awake by Walter, you then spent the subsequent two hours doodling on your notepad."
"But I-"
Five pages of doodles were slapped down on General Hammond's desk, somewhat crossly. Colonel O'Neill sighed.
"Guess I'll start paying attention, sir," he said, sadly.
"You do that, Colonel."
---
Thus it was that Colonel O'Neill sat, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, at the next OFM, having made sure he'd had a good night's sleep beforehand. A cup of strong black coffee sat to his right, a new pad and pen in front of him, and he'd even forced himself to read the previous minutes, and the agenda and supporting documents circulated for this meeting. Major Paul Davis gave him a distinctly dubious look, which Colonel O'Neill ignored, merely writing the meeting heading and date firmly at the top of his pad. Major Davis cleared his throat.
"Uh. Thanks for joining us, everyone. You've all received the documentation for this meeting, I hope?"
"Yup!" said Colonel O'Neill, tapping the pile of printouts to his left. Everyone else chorused a half-hearted assent.
"Mm. Okay. Apologies have been received from..."
The meeting carried on. And on. And on. The OFM was one of those meetings whose impact is only felt when people complain about the inexplicable changes made to the canteen opening times, or the number of forms that have to be filed in order to requisition stationery. As commander of the base, General Hammond had smartly decided to delegate the responsibility of attending to his 2IC.
Jack O'Neill hated this meeting with a passion bordering on obsession.
Halfway through the action points, he began to show his claws. "Hey, wait a second, go back one."
Davis stopped, and stared at the Colonel. "Huh?"
O'Neill picked up his copy of the minutes. Davis's heart began to get that sinking feeling when he noticed that it had a lot of notes written on it, in the Colonel's distinctive hand. Some things were underlined. Several times. Oh god. "'Sergeant Siler to review the procedure for signing out weapons from the armoury'," read O'Neill. He looked up at Davis. "Why?"
Davis shrugged. "We agreed, sir, that the procedure needs to be reviewed on a regular basis, to decide if there are any improvements that need to be made."
O'Neill looked at him for a long time. "We agreed, huh?"
Davis resisted the urge to say that it had probably been one of the bits that O'Neill slept through.
"Has there been any problems with the armoury?"
"Well, no, but that's-"
"Has Sergeant Siler expressed any concerns about the sign-out procedure?"
"No, sir, but we-"
"Has anyone?"
"No, but-"
"Then why the hell are we creating the extra work? The sign-out procedure is the same damn sign-out procedure it's always been, there's no problems, no new security issues we need to take into account - we got that thing with the duplicates sorted, right?"
"Yes, sir." Three years ago, sir. "But-"
"Right." Colonel O'Neill crossed it firmly off his list. "Take that one off, then."
"But, Colonel-"
"It's gone, Davis." Colonel O'Neill looked at the young lieutenant taking the minutes, and gave her his most irresistible smile. "Right, Belton?"
She smiled back, helplessly. "Yes, sir."
"Good. Next."
Davis sighed. He had a bad feeling about this.
---
Half an hour later, and Major Davis was actively considering Colonelcide.
"But what does it matter if we've got a few more boxes of stationery in storage? What's the harm? What's the difference? It's not like it's a matter of national emergency if people would rather use the coloured paperclips, is it? For god's sake, Davis, you've got to learn to loosen up a bit."
If he leapt across the table, he could probably tackle O'Neill, but the guy was fast as a snake. Maybe he could pretend to go get a coffee, and smack him one with the water jug from behind... "It's not a hugely important issue, I agree, Colonel, but it's my job to see that the tiny details are looked at, as well as the-"
"Eh," said Colonel O'Neill, waving his hands. "Leave that one out too, Belton."
"Yes, sir."
Unfortunately, Lieutenant Belton seemed to have fallen under the spell of the Colonel's charisma, and was minuting everything he suggested - and, worse, leaving out anything with which he didn't agree.
"Colonel O'Neill, I don't think you have the necessary experience in administrative matters to be making the final decisions in these-"
"What's next? Ah yes, uniform allowances. I had a thought about this..."
In his head, Davis groaned and banged his forehead on the table.
---
A day later, Colonel O'Neill was summoned to a follow-up meeting with General Hammond.
"Sir?"
"Jack," said Hammond, tentatively. "Come in." O'Neill came in and stood to attention, his eyes fixed at some point above the General's head. "At ease," said Hammond, uneasily, and O'Neill moved smoothly to the at-ease position - perfectly comfortable, perfectly formal. "Ah, you attended the OFM meeting on Wednesday, I believe?"
"Yes, sir," said O'Neill. "And I did as you requested."
"Yeeees." General Hammond wished he had a pair of glasses, just for the purpose of looking over them at his disobediently obedient officer. "So Major Davis tells me." He glanced down at the email in front of him. "Somewhat emphatically," he added, thoughtfully. It wasn't as if Davis had said anything explicit - the man was too good a diplomat for that. But he had managed to get his point across. "Colonel O'Neill..."
"Sir?"
Hammond thought carefully about how he worded this. "Would you mind... carrying on as normal, next time?"
O'Neill raised his eyebrows. But Hammond gave him a long, slow look, making it clear exactly how far he would allow himself to be pushed. O'Neill's mouth didn't even twitch into a smirk. "Yes, sir," he said, with not a hint of smugness. "Will that be all, sir?"
"Yes, Colonel," said Hammond. "Dismissed."
O'Neill straightened, about-faced, and departed. And if there was the slightest jaunty, insubordinately triumphant bounce to his step, well, Hammond definitely wasn't about to call him on it.
---
END.