TITLE: No Exchanges
E-MAIL: eli @ popullus.net
RATING: PG-13
POSTED: Oct. 29, 2004
NOTES: Utterly silly apocamoosheezombiefic. Sorta set in the same universe as Carolyn Claire's birthday present.
DISCLAIMER: Read




It had become a theme, which would make it a motif; Jack had a day off, and he got a present. A fine example of cause and effect, even if he couldn't tell why the cause was causing the effect.

He wasn't complaining, exactly. There was never a mess to clean up afterwards -- except for that time with the choking and the coffee and the insufficient supply of paper towels -- and everyone ended up happy. Eh, almost everyone. Some...people didn't count. Anyway, life could be worse. It was almost a game, and who didn't like games?

"So, has he come yet, or do I finally get to miss out on the fun?"

For one short second, Jack thought about closing the door in Daniel's frowning face.

"Is that any way to greet someone, much less someone who greets you bearing cookies?" he asked. Then he pulled the plate back behind him when Daniel reached.

"Jack..."

"Nah-ah. I don't think so. Say 'hello,' and then maybe."

Daniel narrowed his eyes. Jack shook his head and leaned against the doorframe, waiting.

On a drawn-out sigh: "Hello, Jack."

Close enough, Jack supposed. He slowly, grudgingly extended the plate again.

Daniel snagged two cookies off the top and, ignoring Jack's raised eyebrows, stuffed one into his mouth.

"Mrmthk?"

Jack considered the man munching away in front of him. "That'd be a yes or a no, depending on just exactly what it is that you said," he said as he turned away.

Clearing his throat, Daniel trailed along behind into the living room. "Ah..." Another forced cough. "...Sorry. Um, I'll be right back."

Jack dropped to the couch and waved a hand at Daniel's retreating back. "Okay. Whatever. Have a blast. I'll just be out here with the cookies."

"Not all of them," Daniel called.

Jack snorted, wriggled to settle deeper into the center cushion. "Most of them is almost all," he muttered.

He turned on the television, covering whatever sounds were coming from the kitchen as he balanced the plate on the cushions next to him. One eye on the flickering stations, he carefully selected the cookie with the extra chocolate chips from the side of the pile where he'd stashed it.

"You have no milk!"

Jack stuck a hand onto the plate to hold it steady and twisted up and back, trying to see into the kitchen. "No? Did you--"

"Yes, I checked behind everything." Daniel appeared in the doorway with a frown on his face that was in danger of heading toward a pout. "How can you make chocolate chip cookies and not have milk? Isn't there a rule about this?"

"I didn't plan to make cookies, Daniel."

With a grand rolling of eyes, Daniel advanced. "They don't--" he made a kazaam-type motion with both hands "--happen."

Jack's neck twinged, protesting his awkward position. It wasn't worth arguing, so he slid back down to face the spastic little announcer on the television again. "These did. You tear open the package, separate the little blobs enough so you don't end up with one humongous cookie, and poof. Cookies."

Daniel stopped next to the couch arm in mid-step. Jack sneaked a look that direction and watched as Daniel's hands started waving aimlessly, almost as lost as the expression on his face.

"But...but that requires a...package. Which, well, that comes from the store."

Taking a bite out of another cookie, Jack nodded. "Yep," he said around the mouthful. "That it did."

A frustrated noise. "Which is also where you find milk, strangely enough."

Jack paused to think back over the layout of the aisles, then nodded again. "In a different part of the store."

"It's not a one-way store, Jack," Daniel growled.

Now Jack had to clear his throat, because, truthfully, at this point he could use a drink. He tilted his head to look up at Daniel. "Just...out of curiosity..." he asked mildly." Are you going to stand over me all night bitching about the lack of milk?"

Daniel glared. "Maybe."

Jack gave him his winning-est smile. "Well, while you're up, could you get me a beer?"

Daniel's mouth opened. Shut.

"Please?" Jack tried, stretching the smile as far as it would comfortably go.

Heaving a put-upon sigh, Daniel muttered, "Come up with one more warped cliché and we might twist back to 'normal.'"

Still, he turned and, continuing a not-quite-silent commentary, headed back into the kitchen.

Jack smirked and started flipping channels again, finally settling on a basketball game as the least irritating background noise. Above the blare of the halftime buzzer came the hiss-pop of one bottle opening, then another.

Then the sharp thud of full bottles shattering.

Jack sighed, shifted the cookie plate to the low table, and clambered over the back of the couch before Daniel started complaining. Loudly.

"Now you're just timing it to get back at me, aren't you?"

A low rumble emerged from the kitchen, undercut by a moan.

"No! Get that thing away from me!"

"Hey there," Jack said calmly as he stepped into the kitchen. "Was wondering if you were going to show."

The moose tipped his head down in greeting. Daniel, his pants legs artistically splattered, seethed and stabbed a finger at the face-down decaying body that was soaking up quite a bit of the beer puddle mixed with glass fragments on the floor.

"He...brought...another," Daniel said between gritted teeth.

"Yeah." Jack stepped carefully around the wrong-twisted arm flung out in his path. Sighed again. "Big guy, you've got to be a little more specific about the pop-in time. Give us a bit of a heads up, you know. It's only polite."

That got a snort, which blew hot and pungent across the room. Daniel leaned back with a pained expression.

"Jack, the timing isn't really the point here."

"Maybe not," Jack allowed, "but since you're not doing so good at getting him to stop no matter what language you use, maybe we should start negotiating terms."

The stutter of a noise from the moose at that was definitely a chuckle, Jack decided.

Daniel closed his eyes; surrender or denial, the odds were pretty good either way with the pointed silence. Jack waited about thirty seconds before turning to look at the...body on his kitchen floor.

This one was a little further along than the others, with gunk in his hair and one leg missing, the whereabouts of which Jack refused to speculate on.

But still, he was curious. "Are you hoarding these someplace?" he asked the moose. "This one looks a little...used."

A huffy toss of the antlers, just missing the cabinets. Jack started talking fast.

"Okay, see, the thing is that I still don't entirely understand why you're bringing them, or -- and this is probably a little more pertinent to the discussion -- where you're getting them, but--"

"Can you just thank him, so he'll take it away?" Daniel pleaded.

Jack paused. "You have to admit, this is getting a little weird."

Daniel's eyes popped open and Jack raised both hands to ward off the irritation...that wasn't there.

Instead, Daniel snorted, gasped, "A little?" and fell back against the counter behind him, laughing.

Jack's mouth twitched. The moose tilted his big head and let out a soft, satisfied rumble while Daniel gave himself over to his body-shaking amusement, clutching at the counter when it threatened to tip him over. Jack forced a frown, struggling against the sympathetic chuckle swelling up in his chest. But when Daniel slipped down to the floor and absently kicked away the ratty hand creeping toward his foot, Jack lost it.

Hanging onto the refrigerator handle, almost afraid it might snap again under his weight, Jack pointed at the moose. After a couple of false starts that weren't at all helped by Daniel's snickering, he choked out, "Thanks. Really, thanks. Oh, man, I needed that."

As if in response, the figure at their feet mumbled a weak "Brnnn..."

Jack gave in and grabbed the handle with both hands. Damn it, if he was going down, he was taking something with him.

The groans grew louder, competing for attention with all the laughter, maybe. If there were any words -- or word -- Jack didn't have the energy to try to pick them out of all the noise. But when it cut off, Jack's head snapped up.

They weren't gone. Not yet. The moose was simply gingerly picking the zombie up by the seat of its pants, ignoring its slowly flailing arms. Only then, after giving them a slow, majestic nod that somehow didn't dislodge or rip the disintegrating cloth between his teeth, did the moose blink out.

"Oh!" Daniel gasped and slumped further down against the cabinets. "Thank god."

Jack staggered through the beer puddle, the glass crunching beneath his boots, to collapse next to Daniel. When he tried to prop himself between a warm shoulder and the cool cabinet doors, Daniel shoved him away with an over-offended sniff. Jack just swayed back, his head falling onto Daniel's shoulder, which immediately started shaking again.

Oh, yeah. They were all having fun.

**

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