Title: AAA Author: sharim Email: misssharim@yahoo.com.au Category: Humour.

Spoilers: None.

Summary: AAA.

A/N: Biggest thanks to Ann for answering some very, severely dodgy questions ;) {{hugs}} This is pure and simple silliness. I'm alone, i'm bored.... please excuse me ;)
*

Hands in his pockets, Jack O'Neill sauntered into the mess hall, his eyes scanning the

many tables and chairs scattered throughout the room. Spying his second and the base

CMO sitting at a table to the side, Jack grabbed a pie from the serving bench and

made his way across to the two women.

"I'm telling you, Janet, they don't come any smaller."

"But when I was looking with Cassie the other day I found some smaller than double

A."

"Triple A," Jack inserted helpfully as he slid into a seat beside Carter. "They call

them triple A's."

Both Fraiser and Carter looked at him oddly.

"What?"

They shifted uncomfortably on their chairs for a second. Fraiser shrugged. "I told you

they came smaller than double A's."

"Why would they *need* to be any smaller than double A's?" Carter demanded. "I

mean, that's what the other types are for."

"You mean the little round ones?" Jack frowned, slightly confused.

Again, both women gazed at him oddly. "Colonel?" Carter asked hesitantly.

"The small round ones, you know, the flat ones."

Fraiser coughed slightly.

"You okay?" Carter asked.

"Fine," the doctor croaked, grinning.

Jack was starting to feel very uncomfortable.

Fraiser grinned at him broadly, a wicked glint in her eye.

Yes, very uncomfortable. He shifted in his seat.

"Small, flat, round ones?" Fraiser repeated slowly.

Yes, very very uncomfortable. Carter was starting to look less confused and more

amused.

"So... what exactly are you guys talking about?" O'Neill asked hesitantly, poking

half-heartedly at the pie on his plate.

He was surprised to see Carter's cheeks flush a delicate shade of pink, and she looked

down to her empty plate in what could only be described as embarrassment.

Actually, Jack didn't want to know what they were talking about-

"Bra sizes," Fraiser announced loudly. O'Neill choked on his coffee, splattering his

pie. "We were talking about bra sizes."

The gentle hum of talking people died swiftly in the mess hall.

"Bra sizes?" O'Neill squeaked. He actually squeaked. And then he coughed again,

trying to clear his throat.

Carter's face was no longer delicately pink, it was now racing towards cherry red.

O'Neill was willing to bet his was redder.

"Yes, Sir. We were discussing bra sizes, and Sam seems to think that you don't get

bra's any smaller than a double A."

They sized bras with letters?

"You don't," Carter inserted determinedly. "They stop being 'bra' bras then, and turn

into training bras or sports bras."

You got training bras?

His head was spinning... More coughing...

"Sir? Are you okay?" Fraiser asked innocently.

"Fine." His voice was still at least ten octaves higher than usual. "I'm... I'm... I need

more pie."

He stood up, bumping the table and sending Fraiser's coffee slopping everywhere.

"Sorry.. I..."

"Sir?" Fraiser smiled guilelessly up at him.

"Yes?" At least his voice was slowly descending and his breathing returning to

normal.

"What did you think we were talking about?"

So much for a graceful exit...

Carter gazed at him, amusement now present in her blue eyes.

"Sir?" Fraiser pressed. The woman had absolutely no mercy. None what so ever.

He wanted to die. Really die. He studied the coffee splattered piece of soggy pie on

his plate. Yes, dying would be good.

He sighed and closed his eyes.

"Batteries."

Oh.. this was quite literally a AAA moment... if it involved his car that is.