"Holy jumping catfish, what died in there?" Jack exclaimed, dropping the towel back down over the large crock and jumping back in alarm at the smell. The fur trimmed red Santa hat on his head bobbled dangerously close to falling. Jack raised a hand anchor it back in place.
"Indeed." The familiar yet completely unexpected voice behind him gave Jack a start. He turned with another jump, snatching the hat out of midair with one hand while clutching the other hand to his chest melodramatically.
"Geeze, T! Will you stop sneaking up on me like that?" He glared at his friend. "One of these days my heart attack will be real!" He tugged the Santa hat back on and adjusted it carefully.
Teal’c presented his best poker face (as if he had a different expression, thought Jack) and looked him square in the eye.
"O’Neill. You are in the best physical condition possible. For a human of your age."
Jacked opened his mouth then paused uncertainly.
"I believe you will live for a great many years yet."
Jack started to smirk.
"Unless you fall in battle."
Jack blinked, then frowned, but the Jaffa managed to distract him from his intended words.
"I believe that is Sgt Siler’s . . . property." Teal’c stayed slightly behind Jack, his hands clasped behind him. When Jack raised a questioning brow, Teal’c indicated the offending crock with a minute nod of his head.
"Oh, really." Jack carefully straightened the towel over the crock as if it were full of man-eating alligators. "How did you arrive at that conclusion?"
"I have spoken with Sgt. Siler on many occasions when I have failed to achieve kel-noh-reem. I find him very interesting and informative."
"Really. Our Sgt. Siler?"
"Indeed."
Jack motioned towards the volatile crock. "Has he ever explained this?"
"Yes." Silence.
"Well?" Expectation.
"I cannot tell you. It is a secret."
"Secret, huh? Well, what is it?"
Teal’c looked stoically at him. "If I told you, O’Neill, then it would no longer be a secret."
As silence grew, Jack realized that he’d get nothing more from the Jaffa and pouted.
"Fine!" He snapped. "You just keep your secret!"
Teal’c inclined his head. "It is not my secret, O’Neill. It is Sgt. Siler’s."
Jack waived an impatient hand. "Whatever." He stalked out the commissary door muttering about never going there again in the middle of the night. As the door started to close, it caught a loose piece of garland, dragging it down to snag the hat off Jack’s head. He stopped mid-stride to give it a dirty look as it lay on the floor, and continued on, leaving it behind.
Teal’c moved to pick the hat up, turning it over in his hands a few times, then tugged it on his own head. As he adjusted it, Sgt. Siler stepped around the corner of the industrial fridge where he’d been hiding and glanced at Teal’c.
"And you put up with him on a daily basis? For extended periods of time?" He shook his head. "I don’t know how you do it, Teal’c. Nice hat, by the way."
Teal’c cocked his head. "He is my friend. My…brother."
Siler took a long look at him before nodding. "Well, he’s definitely the man I would want fighting with me, not against me." He got busy placing ceramic and plastic mixing bowls, measuring cups and spoons, and baking pans out on the countertop. Teal’c watched with interest.
"I see why you could not proceed with the baking at your home. Your quarters would be too small to handle such large scale preparation."
"Yeah, sometimes it pays to have friends." Siler stepped back, took one final survey of the countertop, and clapped his hands together enthusiastically. "Okay. Now we get to work."
Teal’c helped haul the huge crock next to the counter. "What food are you preparing, Sgt. Siler?" he inquired as Siler whipped the towel off the aromatic crock.
"This, my large friend, is the secret ingredient for Granny Siler’s World Famous Fruitcake. Not," he held up a warning finger, "to be confused with bricks or doorstops. No." He shook his head and started measuring the ingredients into plastic mixing bowls.
Teal’c inhaled deeply, his nostrils flaring as he drew the scent in. "There appears to be a great deal of alcohol in this." The Santa hat stayed firmly in place even at the steep angle that Teal’c tipped to sniff the questionable mixture. Siler eyed it but said nothing.
"Yep." Siler was busy measuring and mixing. He turned a quick eye to the ovens to check their warm up progress. "Some people prepare the fruitcake and soak it in alcohol for a month, others for a couple of weeks. It differs with each recipe. But this recipe is a little different."
Teal’c frowned. "It is my understanding that most humans of the Tau’ri greatly dislike fruitcake. Why do you continue to give and receive a gift that is not appreciated?"
"Fruitcake has gotten a bad reputation from bad cooks. Granny Siler was not a bad cook. In fact, I’ve made this each year since I’ve been here in the SGC. No one has turned it down." He turned, a smile on his usual taciturn face. "In fact, even Col. O’Neill has eaten it and asked for seconds."
"Indeed. You appear to be a man of many talents."
Siler shrugged. "Sometimes it’s all about a name." He poured batter into a couple of baking pans and handed them to Teal’c to place in an oven. "You may not like fruitcake, but how could you turn down Granny Siler’s Orchard Cake?"
Teal’c paused as he processed the comment, knowing that most fruit grew in orchards on this planet. "Deception."
Siler raised his own eyebrow. "Not deception. Just not…full disclosure." He quickly filled two more pans and placed them in the next oven. "Just wait, Teal’c. You’ll be pleasantly surprised."
"That would be a welcome change."
Siler stared. "You just make a joke, Teal’c?"
Teal’c remained silent.
"Maybe hanging out with Col. O’Neill isn’t such a bad thing after all."
The corner of Teal’c’s mouth twitched, but humor shone in his eyes. "Indeed."
Siler hid a grin as he filled yet a third set of pans, this time configured to make ten mini-loaves each, and placed them in the third oven. He set the timers and covered the remaining batter.
"Now we have to wait. That’s always the hardest part, no matter what you’re doing at the time."
"I concur." At Siler’s expression, Teal’c secretly enjoyed the fact that he had confused the sergeant.
"What happened to "indeed"?"
"DanielJackson has suggested that I expand my use of your language. I was experimenting."
Siler pursed his lips and nodded. "Not a bad attempt, Teal’c. But personally I’d rather hear you continue using "indeed". It just doesn’t seem like you without it. It’s *your* word. You own it. You just aren’t you without *indeed*."
"Indeed."
Laughter burst out of the usually cool and somber sergeant. "I think your sense of humor is just fine." Teal’c inclined his head in acknowledgement of Siler’s comment.
Siler gathered the used bowls and utensils and carried them to the sink where he washed and Teal’c dried. The smell of baking fruitcake drifted around them and Teal’c sniffed in interest.
"If the aroma is any indication, I believe Granny Siler’s cake will be greatly appreciated."
Siler dried his hands. "I’ll tell you what’s appreciated, Teal’c. Friends like you, who don’t mind spending the middle of the night helping me bake cakes."
Teal’c came as close to smiling as the sergeant ever saw. Teal’c handed the Santa hat to Siler.
"Merry Christmas, Sgt. Siler."
"Merry Christmas, Teal’c."
© January 2005 The characters mentioned in this story are the property of Showtime and Gekko Film Corp. The Stargate, SG-I, the Goa'uld and all other characters who have appeared in the series STARGATE SG-1 together with the names, titles and backstory are the sole copyright property of MGM-UA Worldwide Television, Gekko Film Corp, Glassner/Wright Double Secret Productions and Stargate SG-I Prod. Ltd. Partnership. This fanfic is not intended as an infringement upon those rights and solely meant for entertainment. All other characters, the story idea and the story itself are the sole property of the author’s sometimes vivid imagination.