Puppet Love (An Ats/Stargate SG:1 crossover)

Puppet!Hammond/Puppet!Angel, with hints of Puppet!Angel/Wes

FRM

Summary: The crackiest crackfic that ever cracked.

Spoilers: Angel: Smile Time, SG:1:200

Disclaimer: I own none of these characters. If I did, neither show would have been cancelled. *sighs*

Distribution: Want, take, have; though why you’d want this, I do not know. Just tell me where it’s going.

Author’s Notes. After much squeeing over the 200th episode of SG:1, Gileswench responded to my post and ended up double dog daring me to write this. And of course my muse went with it. Sorry the slash isn’t slashier, I just couldn’t because it’s General Hammond. This is has most certainly earned me a place in that Special Hell. At least the company is good. Betaed by Fiareynne

General George Hammond sighed as the limo made its way through downtown LA. He really didn’t want to be here. But when Washington gave orders, he followed. SG-12 had come across a strange object on P3X1127. The scientists at both the SGC and Area 51 had determined it had no military value whatsoever. It wasn’t a weapon or something that could help them on Earth, so it was of no use. It was basically junk. Hammond had been ready to stash it in storage until he’d been contacted by Washington. They’d gotten reports of the object and some Senator on some committee that was indirectly involved with the SGC had a contact in LA that might know the object’s origins.

Hammond really hoped it was worth it. The plane ride had been hell, all those people staring. Hadn’t they ever seen a man in uniform before? The person he was supposed to meet was a Mr. Angel, the head of the LA branch of Wolfram and Hart. He wasn’t exactly sure how a law firm could help him, but orders were orders. He was just glad they had sent a limo so he wouldn’t have to endure more looks as he waited for a cab.

When the limo stopped in front of the large building, Hammond was impressed., modern but classy. There were more looks from the woman at the desk, who pointed him to the elevator and told him which floor he could find Mr. Angel on. He knew that La was different but this was getting ridiculous. When he reached the right floor he walked to another desk, this one with a rather vapid looking blonde who was chewing gum. He approached slowly, steeling himself for more weird looks.

“Excuse me, miss, I have an appointment with a Mr. Angel.”

“Name?” she asked without looking up.

“General George Hammond.”

She looked up and giggled. What was so damned funny about a man in uniform. Yes, he’d gained a few pounds over the years but he still looked good (and fit) into his dress blues. The blonde, whose name plate read ‘Harmony’, pressed a button on her intercom.

“Angel *giggle* there’s a *giggle* General Hammond *giggle* to see you *giggle*.”

“Send him right in, Harmony.”

She pointed him in the right direction while continuing to giggle. Hammond really hoped this Mr. Angel had more respect for the uniform.

He was still a puppet. Three days later and no sign of turning back to his normal vampire self. Wesley and Fred kept reassuring him it would happen soon. He sure as hell hoped so. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could go without blood. Scratch that, he did. As much as he tried to forget his sojourn to the bottom of the ocean, he knew exactly how long he could go without blood.

He had cancelled all but the most important of clients. No one needed to know about his ‘condition’. He’d closed the blinds to shut out the stares from the rest of the office. And to keep from seeing Spike who pointed and called him a ‘wee puppet man’ every time he walked by. He had one of those important clients scheduled for today. Some General from the Air Force with an artifact to show him. He wasn’t allowed to know where the artifact came from, but since the Senator sending the General was a very good client, Angel didn’t question it. So there he was, sitting at his desk, waiting and picking invisible dirt of his felt. Just then the intercom buzzed and Harmony’s filtered through.

“Angel *giggle* there’s a *giggle* General Hammond *giggle* to see you *giggle*.”

“Send him right in, Harmony.”

He got down from the chair and waited in the middle of his office. The door opened and his appointment walked in. Angel took in the strings, disjointed limbs, oversized head and instantly recalled that cheesy British show. Lightening Bugs? Cloud Sparrows? Thunderbirds! He could barely contain his laughter. Then he looked again and lost it.

“You’re a puppet!”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, son. I have always been like this. You, on the other hand, have definite Muppet like qualities. You are Mr. Angel?”

“Not a Muppet, it’s mystical in nature, it’s supposed to wear off soon. And it’s just Angel.”

“Well, Angel, I’ve come a long way to talk to you. Shall we get down to business?”

“Yes,” he said, wiping fuzzy tears from his face.

He showed the General to the chair across from his desk and went around to his side. Using the step stool Wesley had found, Angel managed to get into his chair without any problem.

“So, General, how can Wolfram and Hart help you?”

“Please, call me George. It’ this,” he reached into his pocket and tossed something onto the desk.

Angel stood on the chair to get a closer look at it. It was round, metallic, possibly silver, with several gemstones around the edge. There was small writing, or at least Angel thought it was writing, on the inside. He turned it over to see more writing. It wasn’t any language he recognized.

“Fascinating, George. What does it do?”

“That’s what I was hoping you would be able to tell me.”

“Well, I don’t recognize the markings, but I’ll give Wesley a call. He’s our resident linguist.”

Angel had one had on the object and the other on the phone.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, son” Hammond said, placing his hand over the one Angel had on the object, touching part of the object as well.

Suddenly there was a burst of light from the thing, a rush of air and the distinct hum of magic. Then all was quiet again. Both men regarded each other and quickly retracted their hands.

Angel took another look at George and found himself strangely attracted to the bald man. He wanted to touch the hairless pate, kiss it, lick it. He vaulted over the desk, landing in George’s lap proceeding to lick the top of his head.

Hammond didn’t know what had happened but was now wondering what the felt that made up Angel’s body felt like. Then the man was on his lap and licking his head. The felt was soft, pliable. He pulled Angel down and kissed him. Yuck! Felt didn’t taste good. But it didn’t matter because the next thing he knew he was on the floor having his uniform practically torn off.

Angel struggled with the strings as he felt George’s wooden hands pull at his shirt and run over his chest. He let out a small groan before attacking his fellow puppet again.

Clothes were tossed everywhere and soon the room was filled with quick gasps and quiet moans. The clack of wood against the floor. The scratch of felt against the rug. Heavy breathing followed by a strangled cry of joy.

As Angel came to his senses, he slowly untangled himself from George’s strings. Then he realized what he’d just done. And his brain clicked as to what the object was, a sex charm. He’d seen many of them over the years, usually in the guise of jewelry. If two people touched it they instantly wanted each other, regardless of gender.

Hammond finally came around and was horrified. If anyone found out about this, he’d be discharged for sure. What the hell had come over him? It was the artifact, it had done something to him.

“Um, well…., “ Angel tried to say something.

“Yes. It never happened.”

“No, never did. I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

They got dressed quickly and quietly both of their faces tinged pink. Then Hammond rescued his hat from the corner and held out his hand.

“Well, I’ll leave the artifact in your obviously capable hands, Angel.”

Angel shook the offered hand. “Yes, I’ll send it to our researchers right away. Have a good flight back, George.”

Hammond nodded and left the office without another word. Angel just shook his head and headed back to his desk, picking a splinter out of his arm. Climbing back into his chair, he gazed at the object again. A sex charm. Then he pressed the button on his intercom, a finger tracing the writing on the charm.

“Harmony, can you call Wes and send him up here? Quickly.”

Thank heavens for vampire constitution, even in puppet form.