Just Another Day, Sir
Jun. 22nd, 2011 12:19 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
jackofknavesTitle: Just Another Day, Sir
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
tripatch
Rating: G
Pairing: Gen
Summary: Hannibal is at the end of his rope, Face is not helping, B.A. wants nothing to do with it all, and Murdock... well, he has a sock puppet.
Hannibal could feel his temper flaring. A long day of dealing with politics, generals, and assorted other plagues of the military had left him with a headache and the need for a cigar. Normally his boys' antics would have loosened his tension considerably, but he couldn't handle the petty bickering today, not unless he wanted to explain to the camp commander why three Rangers were hanging from the flagpole. The mental image cheered him somewhat. Enough that he felt he could handle Face's latest neurosis about organic shampoo and BA's bad mood, which hung around like a thundercloud.
What he could not deal with was Murdock's latest habit of refusing to speak, at all, unless it was through sock puppet.
"CAPTAIN!" Hannibal bellowed.
His mildly insane pilot jumped, saluting with one hand and the other hand poised and ready to answer through a muffled cotton mouth.
"Yes, sir," the puppet said.
Hannibal rubbed the bridge of his nose, hoping it would help.
It didn't.
"Captain, can we please can the puppets?"
"I don't know what you're talking about, sir."
The puppet again. He always did that voice when it was the puppet.
Let it never be said Hannibal Smith couldn't admit defeat.
"Is there any particular reason why you stole 5 gallons of brake fluid from the motor pool?" he asked, choosing to change tacks.
The puppet squirmed before answering. "It's for tonight's recipe, sir. Somethin' real special."
"With brake fluid, it would have to be," Face muttered behind them.
"Could you at least--"
It was at that moment, realizing that he had just bent down to address the puppet instead of his captain, with Face trying desperately not to laugh and even BA ducking suspiciously fast behind his latest project, that Hannibal well and fully lost it.
"CAPTAIN! THE NEXT TIME I SEE THAT SOCK, IT HAD BETTER BE IN A SHOE, HAVE YOU GOT IT?"
"YES, SIR!"
Hannibal took two steps away, taking calming puffs on his cigar, and tried to remind himself that these were the best men he had ever commanded. The finest. The elite of the elite. Even if one did have to be drugged every time they flew, which was often, and one would put a teenage girl to shame with his dramatics and grooming products and one apparently was crazier than a loon--the sound of snickering told him something was up. Like a man about to face death, he took one last long puff, tossed the cigar on the ground, and carefully stomped it out before turning around.
Face had given up the battle and was now laughing helplessly into BA's shoulder, who was shaking his head slowly, the corners of his mouth twitching.
With a sense of dread, Hannibal turned to Murdock, who still stood nearly perfectly at attention.
"Captain," Hannibal began slowly. Reasonably, even, considering.
"Yes, sir?"
"Why do you have your shoe on your hand?"
Author:
tripatchRating: G
Pairing: Gen
Summary: Hannibal is at the end of his rope, Face is not helping, B.A. wants nothing to do with it all, and Murdock... well, he has a sock puppet.
Hannibal could feel his temper flaring. A long day of dealing with politics, generals, and assorted other plagues of the military had left him with a headache and the need for a cigar. Normally his boys' antics would have loosened his tension considerably, but he couldn't handle the petty bickering today, not unless he wanted to explain to the camp commander why three Rangers were hanging from the flagpole. The mental image cheered him somewhat. Enough that he felt he could handle Face's latest neurosis about organic shampoo and BA's bad mood, which hung around like a thundercloud.
What he could not deal with was Murdock's latest habit of refusing to speak, at all, unless it was through sock puppet.
"CAPTAIN!" Hannibal bellowed.
His mildly insane pilot jumped, saluting with one hand and the other hand poised and ready to answer through a muffled cotton mouth.
"Yes, sir," the puppet said.
Hannibal rubbed the bridge of his nose, hoping it would help.
It didn't.
"Captain, can we please can the puppets?"
"I don't know what you're talking about, sir."
The puppet again. He always did that voice when it was the puppet.
Let it never be said Hannibal Smith couldn't admit defeat.
"Is there any particular reason why you stole 5 gallons of brake fluid from the motor pool?" he asked, choosing to change tacks.
The puppet squirmed before answering. "It's for tonight's recipe, sir. Somethin' real special."
"With brake fluid, it would have to be," Face muttered behind them.
"Could you at least--"
It was at that moment, realizing that he had just bent down to address the puppet instead of his captain, with Face trying desperately not to laugh and even BA ducking suspiciously fast behind his latest project, that Hannibal well and fully lost it.
"CAPTAIN! THE NEXT TIME I SEE THAT SOCK, IT HAD BETTER BE IN A SHOE, HAVE YOU GOT IT?"
"YES, SIR!"
Hannibal took two steps away, taking calming puffs on his cigar, and tried to remind himself that these were the best men he had ever commanded. The finest. The elite of the elite. Even if one did have to be drugged every time they flew, which was often, and one would put a teenage girl to shame with his dramatics and grooming products and one apparently was crazier than a loon--the sound of snickering told him something was up. Like a man about to face death, he took one last long puff, tossed the cigar on the ground, and carefully stomped it out before turning around.
Face had given up the battle and was now laughing helplessly into BA's shoulder, who was shaking his head slowly, the corners of his mouth twitching.
With a sense of dread, Hannibal turned to Murdock, who still stood nearly perfectly at attention.
"Captain," Hannibal began slowly. Reasonably, even, considering.
"Yes, sir?"
"Why do you have your shoe on your hand?"
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Date: 2011-06-23 10:52 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2011-06-24 01:37 pm (UTC)And working on your fic, promise!
I wrote the ending, now just to fill in that pesky middle part...
(no subject)
Date: 2011-06-24 09:09 pm (UTC)That middle is such a troublemaker. ;)
(no subject)
Date: 2011-10-05 05:05 am (UTC)*sends love over the internets*
(no subject)
Date: 2011-10-07 08:42 pm (UTC)