Rating: G
Pairing: None
Class: Humor
Summary: What happens when you let Sam plan your mission during a particularly chocoholic-y PMS
A/N: This doesn't look much like humor or as described in the summary, but keep reading, it gets better. I promise.
Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, and devices belong to MGM/Gekko/Mutant Something-or-Other. This is created purely for entertainment purposes. No monetary compensation was received for the publication or creation of this work. The author claims no ownership of any trademarks, nor copyrights. The story itself is an original work of fiction copyrighted to the author.
This was possibly the most boring briefing I had ever sat through.
I'd already counted the ceiling tiles (there were 564). Each was nine inches by nine inches
You ask how I know that?
Trigonometry, my dear Watson. My most hated subject, and here I was willingly engaging in it.
Does that tell you how bored I was?
Carter was up there giving a briefing on our mission. I'd stayed focused long enough to find out my part, which was getting the teams into the warehouse, packing up the crates, and getting them out, then dozed off a few seconds after she started on the contents of the crates I was packing.
I glanced over at Hammond. He was looking at the front of the room blearily, as if the general area of the front wall was the tightest focus he could get in his state.
I was glad to see I wasn't alone.
Carter had stopped talking.
Was it over?
Grinning, I started to rise. My legs were falling asleep.
"Lieutenant Siler?" she barked, sounding like she had PMS.
PMSCrap, I forgot my tithe. All the SGC personnel knew to buy Carter a bar of milk chocolate every 28 days. People trying to get favors off her usually gave more expensive chocolates. It was a small price to pay for the security of knowing your head would stay firmly attached.
I noticed I was the only one standing, and Carter was starting to stare at me.
"UghOh! Sorry, sir! I mean, ma'am!" Siler jerked his head up. "CRAP!"
Carter turned away from me and gave him a glare that clearly said, It was your own fault for falling asleep on the overhead projector, and if you don't change the slide right now I'm gonna give you a heck of a lot more than just a little bump on the head from the lens assembly!
Thank you, Siler. I'll be extra-careful with my stuff. I sat down quickly.
"Sorry, sorry."
The slide changed to a shot of what was clearly a crate full of tiny naquadah ingots, each about an inch long, a half-inch wide, and a half-inch high. There was a large blotchy blur in the middle of the picture, where Siler's drool had obviously fallen.
Carter looked ready to leap over the table, but Hammond forestalled her deftly. "Naquadah?"
"It appears so, although the Goa'uld usually favor a somewhat larger ingot." She stared at the slide.
"Well, never mind that. Excellent work, Major. If you'd prepare a briefing for the other teams, you'll leave 0800 Monday. Dismissed."
I sprang up. "Excellent work, Carter."
She smiled. "Thank you, sir." Absentminded, a hand reached into her pocket and drew out a half-eaten bar of chocolate, not the flat kind that Hershey's makes, but a solid, ingot-like bar, obviously meant for baking as nobody could possibly bite through that. Carter snapped off a piece about easily, and popped it into her mouth.
I could imagine those hands around my neck all too easily. Hell hath no fury as a woman menstruating.
There was a vending machine outside. I could get to it, and buy a bar.
Two, to be safe.
We filed out the door, Sam turning left.
Yes, I was going to make it. I was going to make it.
"So, I'll be seeing you around, Major."
She whirled. "You'll be seeing you around? You'll be seeing me around? Just what is that supposed to mean, sir?"
Crap! I jumped. "Nothing, Carter! Nothing, I swear!"
She relaxed. "Sure, sir."
I let out a breath. Funny how you tend to breathe differently when scared.
"Hey, anybody hungry?"
I could strangle him. Why the hell does Jonas have to eat so much?
"No, I'm fine."
Yes, yes. I started edging towards the vending machine.
"Actually, sure. I could do with a nice chocolate pudding. Or some Jell-O." Carter snapped off another piece of chocolate even as she spoke.
Where does she put it all? Even if it only happened a day or two every twenty-eight, there was no way a woman could continuously consume chocolate like that and still retain Carter's slim figure.
Must be all the fleeing and firefights and lugging heavy doohickeys up and down stairs.
"You guys go ahead. I'll catch up."
I walked off nonchalantly, away from the vending machine, until they'd rounded the corner. Then I hauled butt right back, and fed in a dollar fifty.
E17.
The vending machine gurgled, and my coins clinked down inside with a merry tinkle.
Safety was at hand!
Any minute now
I banged on the vending machine. The bar of chocolate stayed in its little spiral-wire holder.
Okay, don't panic. There was another vending machinein the cafeteria.
So I wasn't going to get it today.
That was fine.
All I had to do was make sure I didn't piss Carter off until I got off tonight. I'd stop by the Chocoholics Anonymous place on my way home and get her something fancy to make up.
All I had to do was keep her on an even keel for anotherfive hours and thirty-two minutes.
I could do that. I didn't piss her off that easily.
You'll see me around? You'll see me around? Just what is that supposed to mean, sir?
I was doomed.