Den of Chaos Fiction
Stargate SG-1

Icing on the Cake
by Taselby

 

Rated G
Mitchell, Teal'c

For deani_bean, because she asked. SG-1, Cam&Teal'c.
~650 words. Yeah, I suck at drabbles. Thank you to jimpage363 for the super-fast beta, and talking me down from a very silly ledge.

No warnings, no spoilers, no additives or preservatives. No ownership.


The chocolate cupcakes were gone. Cam stared for a long moment at the empty, crumb-scattered tray, not quite believing. He’d smelled them baking this morning – had Muriel’s personal assurance that there would be more than enough for everyone at lunchtime.

He checked his watch. 1230 hours. Definitely lunchtime.

Definitely no cupcakes. He sighed. The scent of chocolate and walnuts (okay, and whatever the beeflike thing they were serving today was) permeated the commissary.

Yet the tray remained persistently empty, and the line was starting to grow restless somewhere beyond the green beans. The people queued up behind him would never actually complain, no. Being a member of SG-1 did have a few perks to offset the running from killer bugs, being shot at megalomaniacal aliens, and zapped into alternate dimensions they did during the rest of the week. The faint murmur of discontent and rustle of ripstop cotton grew more insistent behind him, and he moved on, selecting a pistachio pudding and a fruit cup as consolation prizes.

But damn, he’d wanted one of those cupcakes.

Gripping his tray firmly and telling himself that the pudding would surely be every bit as satisfying as the woefully absent secret home recipe chocolate-chocolate chip-walnut cupcakes with dark— He cut off that line of thinking, looked at the pale green blob of pudding and very firmly did not pout.

He dropped his tray across from Teal’c with a bit more force than was warranted and swung a leg across to straddle the chair, wincing and adjusting his seat an instant later. These molded bowl-bottom chairs were not straddle-friendly. Cam reached for his silverware packet and smiled a tight acknowledgement at Teal’c, who inclined his head politely before—

Before continuing to calmly scrape the icing off of his cupcake – his pile of cupcakes – and clean the knife on the edge of his plate.

“What are you doing?” Cam counted. One, two, three… wait. There were papers folded neatly on the tray. Five? Five cupcakes?

“I am removing the icing from these cupcakes.” Teal’c had ways and ways of stating the obvious. This one was hovering somewhere in the orbit of “ask a stupid question…”

“Yes, I can see that.” He poked at his beeflike thing, somewhat satisfied that it laid there on the plate and made no attempt to escape. “A better question would be why?”

Finished with the denuding of the cupcakes, Teal’c folded the brightly colored papers neatly and sectioned a cake with his fingers, revealing the dark, moist interior studded with walnuts. He took a large bite.

All right, in fairness, he took a Teal’c-sized bite. Teal’c was a big guy. Took big bites. Cam thought of Cool Hand Luke, and wondered how much money he could make by taking bets about the next taquito night.

Two bites, and the cupcake was gone. Teal’c gently halved the next one.

Cam cleared his throat. “Umm, Teal’c?”

“Doctor Lam is most insistent in her belief that excess consumption of refined sugar is detrimental to one’s health, and as I am no longer in possession of the enhanced health and immunities provided by a symbiote, I am endeavoring to comply with her wishes that I reduce my sugar intake.”

Cam blinked. Another cupcake disappeared. He tried to sum up the highlights. “Doc says sugar is bad, so you eat twice as many naked cupcakes?”

Teal’c did that beatific Jaffa More-Alien-Than-Thou smile and nod thing again. “Indeed. Muriel Wu’s cupcakes are most delicious. As I have no desire to eliminate them from my diet, a suitable compromise with Doctor Lam was achieved.”

The last cupcake vanished, leaving behind only a hint of crumbs and a heap of icing. Cam sighed and reached over to scoop up a fingerful of icing. Delicious stuff.

Next time. Next time, barring off-world missions, time dilation accidents, or—or traffic, he’d be here early.


End

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