Disclaimer Stargate Sg-1 and its characters are the property of Stargate (II) Productions, Showtime/Viacom, MGM/UA, Double Secret Productions, and Gekko Productions. This story is for entertainment purposes only and no money exchanged hands. No copyright infringement is intended. The original characters, situations, and story are the property of the author. This story may not be posted elsewhere without the consent of the author.

Jack stared mournfully at the chocolate cake and fought the urge to pout. Damn Fraiser and her health kick. 'Your cholesterol's a little high sir.' 'Pizza is not a food group.' 'Are those love handles I see?'

Knowing that the good doctor was still on duty, Jack chose the safer course, picking up a parfait cup of multicolored Jell-O and a banana. That oughta hold him until he got off duty. And if he hit Wendy's and got a double cheeseburger and biggie order of fries, what she didn't know couldn't get him in trouble.

Not in the mood to go back to his tiny little office, he claimed a table in the corner and opened his laptop. Hammond had had a little talk with him about mission reports, and how he'd actually like to get them in the same year that the mission had taken place. Astute enough to take a hint, Jack decided to make it his mission to get all caught up in his paperwork.

Snagging a bite of his Jell-O, he opened the first report and started to read. He'd already written down his notes, now he needed to go back over them and re-word them a bit. 'Cold enough to freeze the balls off a walrus', while accurate, was probably not a good way to describe the water he and Carter had almost drowned in.

As he pondered, he heard the footsteps and hushed conversation of some of Janet's nurses entering the commissary. Hoping to hell that they didn't carry their needles with them, he gave them a cursory look, then turned his attention back to his computer. The sooner he got these reports done, the sooner he could go get that cheeseburger.

He heard the women claim a table behind him, their chattering voices full of good-natured laughter. Jack tuned them out, concentrating on his report. 'Thor saved our butts' became 'A latent memory pattern of the Asgard Thor evidentially knew who Major Carter and I were, it opened the door before we could drown' with a quick bit of typing and judicious use of the delete key.

"God, I want to find the person in the laundry and give her a big hug," one of the nurses enthused.

"Why? Last time you were complaining about them putting starch in the sheets."

"No. Ok, I still hate what they do with the sheets but….have you seen him? Those tight t-shirts…God, girl, ya gotta be dead not to notice."

Despite himself, Jack felt his gaze drifting down to his chest. His shirts HAD been getting a bit tight. That's what had prompted Fraiser's lecture about food groups and exercise.

"And those arms! You know I can't even wrap my whole hand around those biceps of his. Whew." There was the rustle of paper. "Is it hot in here or is it just me?"

"Oh please," the third nurse snorted as Jack reflexively flexed his biceps as he typed, fighting the urge to check out the nurse's claim himself. Couldn't let them KNOW he was listening in. "You're just horny because Mike's over seas."

"I am not!"

"Yes. You are. I've seen you drooling over anything in pants the last few weeks."

"She ain't the only one who's been enjoying the view," the second nurse drawled.

Jack felt his back straighten a bit and a slight heat in his cheeks. Fighting the silly grin he knew was splitting his face; he typed some more, not really noticing that his fingers were spewing out more gibberish than true words.

"We do need to talk to the laundry folks. That or the quartermaster. His pants are way too baggy."

"They're probably more comfortable that way."

"Maybe so, but I'm not interested in comfort. I wanna see if his package holds true to his biceps."

Now starting to feel embarrassed, Jack stopped typing, the clicking of the keys obstructing his hearing.

"Now, Marilyn…"

"Don't give me that crap about size and skill. Take it from someone with personal experience, a little size can make up for a huge lack of skill."

"Sorta like the difference between trying to shoot an elephant with a pea shooter or a P-90?" her friend asked, causing the women to break out into laughter. Feeling silly just sitting there with his fingers idle on the keyboard, Jack picked up his Jell-O, hurriedly shoving the rainbow gels into his mouth as fast as his spoon could carry them.

"Exactly. Sure, you can kill it with a well placed shot in the brain…but if you got a P-90…wham, bam thank you sir," she enthused, gently slapping her hands against each other to graphically illustrate her point.
"Nine hundred armor piercing rounds a minute…"

"Oh, Honey, he can come pierce my armor anytime."

"Just think about it…almost instantaneous reload. No lying there…waiting…and waiting…and…" Jack heard the thunk of her head theatrically hitting the table. "Oh yeah, hi, honey…you still there?"

Jack lifted the spoon to his mouth and realized that it was empty. He panicked for a second, afraid that the nurses would notice him. He thought about getting up to leave, but knew if he did that, it would be obvious that he'd been listening.

Spying the banana, he set the empty parfait glass down, wincing as the spoon rattled against the side. He picked up the fruit and quickly peeled it, taking a large bite.

"That's why I got Fred a script for our little blue friend. Works every time."

"You didn't?"

"Hey, medically assisted sex is better than no sex."

They broke into laughter again as Jack continued to munch on his banana. "Bet he doesn't need any help," one of them said. Knowing that he was the only 'him' in the room, Jack felt his ears start to burn.

"Oh yeah, Mother Nature can take care of him JUST fine," she said, her voice singsong.

"Fine is the word."

This time Jack couldn't smother the grin on his face. He gave a satisfied sigh and took another bite of his banana, chewing slowly. Where was Fraiser when he needed her? Who says love handles are a bad thing?

"And the way that boy handles his fruit."

"Yeah baby. Is that a banana in your pocket or are you just glad to see me?"

Jack choked and coughed, his banana falling unheeded to the table.

"Ssh. He'll hear us."

"Too late."

"Oh God, I'm going to die."

Thinking that he was going to live out the nurse's mortal embarrassment, Jack struggled to regain his composure, without spitting half chewed banana all over his keyboard. Oh man, how was he going to face these women? The ones that held the needles…the ones that gave the sponge baths…the ones that…

"Good evening, ladies. May I join you?"

Hearing a masculine voice, Jack turned, his mouth falling open as he saw Jonas standing by the table of nurses, his notebook in one hand, a banana in the other. He stared at the Kelownan, seeing his tight t-shirt and baggy pants.

Feeling his heart sink, he watched the young man sit down, the fluorescent lighting glinting off his shiny white teeth. He started to talk to the nurses, his drawl audible across the room.

Suddenly dejected, Jack got to his feet, closing the lid on his laptop. He left the room, secretly relieved when none of the other occupants appeared to notice him. He never should have left his office. Bad things happened every time he used the commissary for paperwork.

Listlessly he swiped his card in the reader and leaned against the wall. The elevator pinged and Jack stood up, ready to board the car. He backpedaled quickly as Carter and Teal'c stepped from the elevator, nearly knocking him over.

"Colonel, I'm sorry," she apologized, reaching out to steady him. "Are you ok?"

"Fine, fine. What are you two still doing here?" he asked, vaguely remembering them being dismissed a few hours ago.

"Major Carter and I were going over the design specifications for the two death gliders we obtained."

"And now we are both dying for a snack," Sam said. "I wonder if the commissary has any cake left?"

"No, actually. It's all gone," Jack lied impulsively.

"Ooh," Sam frowned. "That's too bad. I was sort of in a junk food mood."

"That is indeed unfortunate."

Jack stared at her disappointed face and smiled as an idea popped into his brain. "Tell ya what, Carter. I was on the search for food too." He held up his laptop. "I'll trade ya whatever you want at the Creamery for a little editorial work on my mission reports. You too, Teal'c," he offered.

She frowned again and gave him a contemplative look, obviously intrigued by the prospect of a trip to the ice cream parlor. "How many mission reports?" she asked warily, well versed with his procrastination.

"Just the last two," he said. "I already have my notes, all I need is a little translation," he cajoled.

Sam looked at Teal'c, who shrugged slightly. "Anything we want?"

"Sky's the limit," Jack promised telling himself that there was nothing wrong taking solace in food.

She thought for another second, and then nodded, following Jack and Teal'c into the still waiting elevator. "Just to warn you, I'm craving a banana split."

The door slid shut just as the trio of nurses left the commissary, still laughing amongst themselves.

"I can't BELIEVE you said that," Marilyn said, her face flushed.

"What? It's the truth."

"He heard us," she said, her voice embarrassed.

"So?"

"So? You can't talk about a full bird colonel like that."

"Why not? You think they never talk about us that way?"

"Well…yeah but…"

"Sugar, he's called the silver fox for a reason."

~Fin~

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