Title: Frosting
Author: meagan <nutmeg@serv.net>
Summary: The day after Jack helps Daniel and Cassie make cookies.
Distribution: Please ask. I have no idea who would possibly want this or why.
Spoiler: Uh, no, I don't think so. Oh, wait -- blink-and-miss-it for "1969."
Rating: PG, maybe? Nothing onscreen, so to speak.
Disclaimer: Very, very not mine. Showtime, MGM, Gekko, Double Secret.
Warnings: If you want blue-and-purple hair, be prepared to give up white sheets and towels. Oh, and this is the first time I have written in an established fandom that is not _BtVS_/_Angel_. I would love to know what I'm doing wrong.
Notes: I really, really want to put something in here about why I felt compelled to do this, but that would ruin the surprise, so I'll just keep the comments to myself for now. This fic forced me to go buy some sugar cookies and frosting when lunchtime rolled around. The stuff mentioned at the end is real. I chose blue.
Bizarrely, this was written while listening to Ice Cube's album _The Predator_ (and by the way, Bruce Springsteen's sister did the photography for that album, on the off chance there is anyone other than me who cares), in case there's anyone interested in things like that. I am aware I'm a freak.
Special thanks to M.A.C. for making lipstick that smells just like frosting, which is why I frequently think of the stuff. Frosting, that is. I am a lipstick addict.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

His bedroom smelled like a bakery.

Slight correction, as the previous day's events came creeping back: His entire house smelled like a bakery. And for very good reason. He had somehow inexplicably been talked into letting Cassie invade his kingdom and commandeer the kitchen in the name of cookies. Sugar cookies. With frosting.

Cassie -- and Daniel.

Jack groaned, gingerly touching his hair. It crackled. Why, yes, that *is* frosting! That's the last time he lets those two gang up on him. Who needs hair styling products when you have a vat of sugar paste and two goofy bakers chasing you around the house with spatulas and pastry bags in hand? On the up side, they did manage to keep it off the sofa.

And now, of course, time to get up. He *knew* he should have showered before collapsing in bed the night before, but he had been so tired that he just hadn't managed to bring himself to care. So now, of course, he was stuck to the sheets. The sheets. Those were a lost cause, unless he wanted to, say, tie-dye them. Hot pink, blue, green, purple -- it reminded him of that Woodstock-bound bus from years past. Carefully, he peeled the cloth from his body. Water. Hot water. A nice, *long* shower. With a glance at the clock, he revised that: *Extremely* brief water experience. There was just enough time to chisel the frosting from his hair and rinse the stickiness from his body, but not much more.

Freshly showered (and didn't the water swirling down the drain look *pretty*? It had reminded him of a woman he had passed on the street one day, hair a colorful swirl of fuchsia, blue, and purple, wearing a tie-dyed t-shirt that actually *matched* her hair), he threw on his clothing and steeled himself. He distinctly remembered leaving the kitchen under a layer of flour, cookie dough, and food coloring. To his amazement and relief, the cleaning fairy had visited. Sure, the sink was full of dirty dishes, but the counters were clear, the floor was clean, the garbage had been removed, and -- wonder of wonders -- the coffee pot was full of a magical elixir. The wonder of timers on coffee makers. And there was a note taped to the filter holder.

Jack --
The worst of the mess is gone, but
you're on your own for the rest.
-- Daniel

Ah, yes. It wasn't the cleaning fairy. Daniel had inadvertently purchased non-decaffeinated coffee the previous evening. Between the coffee and the cookies, Daniel had been so wired he had practically bounced off the walls. Merely being in the same room had been exhausting. Jack recalled faint kitchen-cleaning noises seeping into his dreams after he had succumbed to unconsciousness. So Daniel had decided to clean up a bit before returning to the base in the middle of the night to get some work done in peace. The hyperactivity hadn't been all bad. Then again, most of the mess had been generated by the younger two bakers anyway, so perhaps it was only fair that Jack be mostly uninvolved with the cleanup. After all, he had an appointment.

And speaking of that appointment, the base. He had just enough time to get there before his turn with the good doctor.

~~~

He found Sam and Janet huddled together, consulting with each other in hushed tones. They separated and carefully arranged their mouths into non-grins when they saw him. Sam was the first to speak. "Very good cookies, sir. The frosting was especially... Bright." Then she snickered and walked away from Jack and Janet as quickly as possible without actually running.

He watched her leave, confused. "Right." The examining table caught his attention, reminding him of the reason he was there. An accidental exposure to some mystery plant in the local semi-wilderness had led to the need to have Janet check his back to ensure he hadn't experienced an odd reaction to the plant in question. He wasn't sure what it was since he wasn't sure precisely when it had happened, but he was sure it had been during a fishing trip rather than on a mission. A shot of Benadryl at the time had alleviated virtually all of the problem as far as he was concerned, so this was merely a follow-up visit. "So, shirt off?" She nodded, and he complied.

"Oh, my."

Her murmur caught his attention. "What? What's wrong? Is it back?"

"Ah, no. Not at all." Her tone made it clear that her comment had nothing to do with a medical problem. Quickly, she finished her exam. "You're all set. But one thing."

At her pause, Jack frowned. "And that one thing?"

She smirked. *Smirked*! At *him*! As if she had any reason to smirk at him! She handed him a small mirror, spun her finger around to indicate he should use it to examine his back, and said, "You two might want to invest in some non-staining body paint. You're going to be walking around with 'Property of Daniel Jackson' on your back in ten different languages for a while. Nice color choices, though. They look suspiciously familiar. I'm guessing... Cookie frosting applied with a pastry bag?"

"Oh, no." He twisted in front of the mirror, trying to see exactly what was on his back. Squiggles. Brightly-colored squiggles that looked quite a bit like mirror images of squiggles that Daniel studied and referred to as "languages." With smears on his upper back and shoulders that looked like someone had *licked* some of the squiggles away. Perhaps a linguist with a secret desire to be a patissier.

"Oh, yes." The smirk was punctuated by an unladylike snort. "Of course, Daniel's going to have it in reverse on his torso for the same amount of time, so maybe you could call it even."

"Shit." It was, predictably, the only word his brain could recall at the moment. His mind was blank. He suddenly had visions of his career going up in flames. If he was lucky, maybe he could avoid prison. "So when can I expect to be hearing from Hammond?"

That damned smirk finally disappeared, replaced by a look of surprise. "I see no need to mention it. I could be persuaded that this is a doctor-patient confidentiality issue."

"And Daniel? If he has this stuff --"

"No one can read those languages even if they're written normally. The only reason *I* know what that says is because he told Sam, and she told me. It seems that when Daniel stretches, his shirts don't always stay tucked in. And he had a *long* night, so he was doing a *lot* of stretching this morning. And written in reverse? You might as well be talking about reading tea leaves. You'll be fine if you keep your clothes on." Another snort. "At least in mixed company."

Jack sighed. At least she was amused rather than horrified. "And doctor-patient confidentiality? I mean, you're telling me. What about Sam? How much does she know? You two were clearly giggling about this thing earlier."

"Ah. Sam." Janet deliberately turned her attention to the file in her hand. "As long as you share with her, I don't think you'll have any problems there."

"Share?" Jack's life suddenly flashed before his eyes. Daniel and Sam, conspiring against him. Daniel and Sam, deciding that they were perfectly happy without him. Daniel and Sam --

"Cassie's cookies? Actually, you might want to consider just making a batch of cookies for Sam to keep for herself." The smirk was back. "But for the sake of your laundry, just use white frosting this time."

~~~

The next day, Jack found a present in front of his locker. A plain brown paper bag. He approached it warily. It didn't move when he touched it, so he carefully opened it.

A metal can, just like those that contained spray cheese. He turned the can over to examine the label.

Canned frosting. *White* canned frosting. With plastic decorator attachment tips. And a small bottle of candy sprinkles. And another note. This note had no name, but the author and reason were clear. He grinned, depositing the frosting and sprinkles in his bag to take home before taping the note to Daniel's locker. It was going to be an interesting weekend if his second in command had any say in the matter. And, of course, she did.

Sugar cookies. Monday.

~~~ the end ~~~