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Story Notes: I tried to keep this simple for the non-sports fans. Also Elizabeth may not be as clueless about football as the fic indicates. I'd like to think she is just trying to get a rise out of John.


The Boys of Summer and Fall



Elizabeth Weir popped the top on her first can of grape soda and prepared for an afternoon of baseball. The all-American sport along with apple pie, the flag and mothers everywhere seemed to have been adopted as an eternal symbol of the USA. Watching baseball always took Elizabeth back to the halcyon days of her youth when her father had taken her to the ball park where they stuffed themselves on hot dogs and cheered for their hometown team. Now even though she was currently residing in another galaxy, thanks to a collection of DVD's they had acquired while on Earth, she would be able to return to those days.

She settled back on the large comfortable sofa and studied the remote control. The new 60” plasma HDTV and Bose home theater system were the newest toys of the command staff. No one knew exactly who had donated the latest addition to what Elizabeth liked to call the “toys for boys” collection but she had her suspicions. Not that it mattered because she was fully prepared to take advantage of being the boss and commandeer the rec room for the afternoon.

They had only been back in the Pegasus Galaxy for a little more than a week after a rather adventurous, not to mention contentious, few months spent floating just off San Francisco on Earth. Dealing with the IOA had left Elizabeth mentally and physically exhausted and she was very glad to be away from them. Now after settling once again on Lantea, Atlantis was going through what Rodney McKay had declared was a “level infinity diagnostic”. The scientist had declared all the city's systems to be off limits to any hands but his own and those of his team of diagnosticians until further notice, so everyone got a day off.

“God knows what the trip back and forth to Earth did to her,” Rodney had declared, giving both John and Carson particularly malevolent stares. “Being driven through a wormhole like a rattletrap Ford in the demolition derby at the county fair probably did enough damage, which we didn't have time to get around to fixing on Earth. But the trip back at the hands of Evil Knievel over there was even worse.”

“Hey,” John and Carson said in unison, but Rodney had just babbled on about their bad driving and how they were lucky every bolt and screw in the city wasn't shaken loose.


As a result, Rodney had to work and the rest of them had free time. So no one put up much of an argument.

“Forgot the snacks,” Elizabeth said aloud to herself as she set aside her drink and prepared to rise.

“How about some popcorn?”

His voice startled her and Elizabeth dropped back down onto the sofa. “John? What are you doing here? Unless you've come to watch baseball with me, I'll have to remind you that I specifically said I was...”

“Relax Doc.” John set the enormous bowl of popcorn he was holding down on the coffee table and picked up the remote. “Surely you're not going to keep this whole huge rec room all to yourself. Didn't your mom teach you to share?”

Elizabeth opened her mouth to protest.

“Wait, did you say baseball?” John interrupted.

“I did. It's the last game of the World Series. The Black Hawks versus the Mavericks.” She reached for the remote but he was holding it just out of her reach.

“I don't suppose I could convince you to watch football instead.” He waved the DVD he was holding in his other hand. “College championship game. Nebraska Tech versus Virginia State.”

“Oh gee. Let me think it over. No.” Elizabeth pushed herself to her feet and intensified her efforts to grab the remote control away from him.

“But I brought popcorn.” John was giving her the puppy dog eyes and she was trying her best to ignore him.

“If you want to watch baseball, you may stay,” Elizabeth stated emphatically and held out her hand for the remote.

The raised eyebrow was John's undoing, so he reluctantly handed her the controls. “All right. I'll stay but after your game, we get to watch mine.”

Elizabeth glared at him, but the enticing aroma wafting from his bowl of popcorn convinced her to go along with his request. Besides, she welcomed the company.

Halfway through the game, Elizabeth had begun to regret her decision. “Would you stop squirming.” She elbowed John in the side and pulled the popcorn bowl within reach. John had been holding it like it was full of boiling water, occasionally tilting it toward her so she could grab a handful of popcorn.

Now he stretched his feet out on the coffee table and dropped his head back against the sofa. “How do you stand this? I swear to God Elizabeth, if this was a cartoon, I'd have little Z's above my head right now.”

“Are you implying that baseball is boring?” She shot him a look, barely taking her eyes off the screen because Billy Roy Hopkins, new pitching sensation for the Hawks, was trying to strike out Manny Hernandez, home run hero for the Mavericks. And she didn't want to miss it.

“Why I'll have you know Hopkins, a rookie might I add, just took his team all the way to the World Series. And Hernandez sends most of his pay check back to his mother and eight brothers and sisters in Ecuador.”

John snorted, unimpressed. Elizabeth kicked him.

“Ow.” He rubbed his leg. “Damn Doc, I thought you advocated non-violence.”

“Oh, shake it off. I'm not even wearing shoes.”

John snorted again.

“Did I mention Manny's mother has cancer?” Elizabeth frowned at him and raised both eyebrows daring him to make a smart remark.

Wisely, John shut up and busied himself with getting more sodas from the small refrigerator. Grape for Elizabeth and cola for him.

“I'd never have pegged you for a grape Nehi sorta gal,” he teased.

Elizabeth took the offered can and opened it with a swoosh. “Only when I watch baseball,” she said with a shrug, grinning at him and taking a large swig of the sugary drink.

“Yeah, well the purple mustache is becoming.” He grinned back at her.

Elizabeth set down her soda and swiped her hand over her mouth before turning her attention back to the game.

John had soon found out that Elizabeth Weir was somewhat of an expert at trash talk. At first he watched her as she bounced in her seat and shouted encouragement and criticism alternately at the screen. By the fifth inning he had adjusted to this new side of her and deciding he liked it, settled down to enjoy her enjoying the game. Lord knows he needed to entertain himself somehow. The slow pace of the game and the never-ending amount of time it took anybody to make a move just chafed him. His need for speed was being sorely tested.

“Unbelievable!” Elizabeth shouted late in the eighth inning as the Black Hawk's cleanup batter hit a grand slam. “They just squandered a three-run homer. Wallensky should have caught that.”

“Maybe the sun was in his eyes,” John quipped.

Elizabeth took a second to shoot him a death glare that would have flattened a lesser man, but John plowed on.

“Or maybe he was worried about his sick grandma.”

“You are despicable. Throw the ball to home you flatfooted cretin.” Elizabeth gestured with the hand holding her soda can, flinging a few drops of liquid in John's direction.

“Hey, watch it. This is my last clean shirt.” He swiped ineffectually at his chest and flicked his fingers back at her.

Elizabeth crossed her arms and sat fuming, one foot twitching rapidly back and forth while the commentators analyzed the play. John tried to tease her out of her funk but she was having none of it.

If they go into overtime, I will kill myself. Right here in front of our new 60 inch plasma with surround sound. Maybe I can slit my own throat with the edge of my soda can. Too bad it's not a glass bottle...

“What are you mumbling about? Speak up or shut up. It's the ninth inning. The Mavericks are down by 2 and the leadoff batter is a hall of famer. It's crunch time.”

John straightened up and turned his attention to the screen.

“Woo hoo!” Elizabeth's hands went straight up in the air and her legs along with them, nearly knocking John off the couch. “They did it. They did it. The Mavericks won the World Series.” Elizabeth couldn't contain her excitement that her team had scored 3 runs in their last up to bat and had held off the Hawks in the bottom of the ninth.

“Then why are you pouting?” John noticed her outthrust bottom lip as he was resettling himself beside her. Her outburst, truth be told, had awakened him from a slight doze. Fearing a Wraith attack, he had reached for his side arm before he remembered where they were and had sheepishly pretended that he was just brushing popcorn dust off his jeans.

“Because I wasn't there to celebrate with the fans.” Elizabeth shrugged and made a wry face. “Silly, I know but that's all the fun. The ticker tape parade. The interviews on ESPN.”

John rose and walked toward the DVD player. “We'll shred some documents and have a party in the gateroom,” he offered, plucking the disc from the player and spinning it on his finger.

Elizabeth snatched the disc and returned it to its case. “We don't have documents.” She smirked at him and ducked her head in recognition of his attempt to make her feel better.

“Then we'll go out on the west pier and fire off our P-90's. Ronon would love that.”

Elizabeth was gathering up their trash and carting it over to the recycle bin. Finished, she gave John a bright smile and turned to leave. “Well, enjoy your game. I'll see you later.”

“Hold it right there, Missy.” John straightened from inserting his football disc in the player and stood with his hand on his hips. “Just where do you think you are going?”

Elizabeth made the mistake of taking a moment to think. John reached her in two long strides and motioned toward the sofa. “The entertainment portion of this afternoon is only half over. You owe me one football game.”

Elizabeth sat reluctantly. “Can I at least take a bathroom break?” She looked up at him with big eyes and he shrugged.

“Five minutes. And don't leave the area.”

Elizabeth fled in one direction and John in the other.


“So, let me get this straight,” Elizabeth said above the loud rock music that was ushering the teams onto the field. “The teams that play in this game are decided by computers.”

John shrugged and grimaced all at the same time. He had given Elizabeth a short explanation of the Bowl Championship Series that determined which schools would play for the college football championship. Maybe too short. But no need to confuse her with too many facts. Plus it was a stupid system that defied explanation in the first place.

“Computers and polls.”

“I see.” She thought for a moment. “And they're not necessarily the best two teams or may not even have won their conference championship.”

“Well, when you put it like that...” John gave up. “Look, it's complicated. Let's just enjoy the game for what it is.” He handed her another grape soda and plopped down beside her.

Elizabeth shifted the newly popped bowl of popcorn in his direction and turned her attention back to the game. Three men in suits were talking in loud voices about the two teams.

This Nebraska offense has size and speed on their side, Bob.

But that heralded Virginia defense has been known to stop the run, Mark.

Whichever team dominates here today will have to find a way to move the ball down the field and put some points on the scoreboard.


“I thought that was the whole point of the game.” Elizabeth sounded puzzled.

“Excuse me?”

“You know, move the ball, score points.”

John laughed. “It's just sports jive, Elizabeth. They're filling up the time. Now look, time for the kickoff.”

Elizabeth settled back and tried without much success to follow the ball. Most of the time it just looked like they all ran and jumped on each other. Thinking how horrible it would be to be on the bottom of a pile of 300 pound men, Elizabeth gasped every time somebody took a hard hit and didn't get up. And they say baseball players take steroids.

Finally, she couldn't take it anymore. “Do their mothers approve of this?” She turned to John with a disbelieving expression.

He glanced over at her and back at the screen. “Well, yeah. Especially the ones that go on to sign multi-million dollar contracts with the NFL.”

“Well, it's just brutal. And did I hear them say one of the players has a broken shoulder?”

John grinned. “Collins, running back for Virginia. They made a special cast in the engineering department that immobilized the shoulder so he could play this game.”

“Gee, all their mothers must be so proud.” Elizabeth shook her head.

“See, I told you.” John deliberately misunderstood her comment.

“Well, I must admit,” Elizabeth said, turning her head on the side and leaning a bit toward the screen, “their butts really look cute in those tight pants.”

“So let me get this straight,” John squinted at her, “the only thing you like about football is the men's asses.”

“Pretty much. But I get a bit uncomfortable with all the touching.”

“Touching?” John's voice came out an octave higher than usual.

“You know, when that guy in the middle puts his hands between the other guy's legs.” Elizabeth made a face and continued. “It looks...well...you know.”

“No, I don't think I do know. That's the quarterback He's waiting for the snap.”

“Whatever. It just looks odd that's all. And they also pat each other on the ass a lot.”

“It's like we're watching a completely different game.”

Elizabeth ended the conversation with a handful of popcorn in John's face, some kernels of which he caught in his mouth. He flashed his white teeth at her and licked the salt off his lips.

The first quarter ended with both teams scoreless after Nebraska's failed attempt at a field goal. Early in the second, Virginia's quarterback fell back in the pocket and hit his receiver squarely in the chest with the ball. The school's All American wide receiver ran for 48 yards before he was brought down by Nebraska's secondary.

“That was a hole you could have driven a truck through,” John shouted.

Elizabeth remained silent.

Then on the next play, a blitz by Nebraska brought the quarterback down before he could release the ball and the strains of “We Will Rock You” played by both the Nebraska band and the massive sound system shook the stadium. John groaned.

“I must say, “ Elizabeth said. “Football is a much louder sport than baseball.”

John grinned. “You should see a game in person. It'd rock your socks.”

“Hmm. Tell me John, who chooses the team colors?”

“Team colors?” John shook his head in puzzlement, looking from Elizabeth back to the screen. She may as well have asked about what kind of grass was planted on the field and why it was green. What could it possibly matter what color they wore? “Uh, I guess at some point in the ...uh...you know...distant past...they chose colors.”

“Well as long as they are letting computers pick the participants in the game, they may as well select teams with more interesting colors.”

Hoping to find out why a Nebraska safety suddenly had the ball and was running hell bent for the endzone, John was only half listening.

“I mean. Nebraska's colors are red and white and Virginia's are maroon and white. It just seems it would have been more visually appealing if they had selected one team with red colors and another team with say blue. Don't you think?”

John groaned again and lowered his head to his hands. Nebraska had intercepted the ball and scored. The crowd was going wild. Thank God for instant replay.

“John?”

Satisfied that the play would stand no matter how much the veins popped out on the Virginia coach's forehead, John crushed his cola can in one hand and threw it in the general direction of the recycling bin.

“Sorry, did you say something?” He turned back toward Elizabeth.

“Never mind. Is there any more Nehi?”

John tossed her another can and gave her a quick once over. “How many of these have you had, Doc? Your sugar high must be in full force by now.”

Elizabeth held the can waiting for the shaken liquid to settle itself. “I lost count,” she shrugged. “Besides, I need the sugar to counteract all the salt in this popcorn.” She set the bowl aside and wiped her fingers on a napkin.

“Well, you are talking a bit fast,” John teased and got another kick for his efforts.

During halftime they contacted Rodney to get an update on the system inspection and were told to leave us alone if you ever want to get your accident prone little hands on this city again.

“Rodney!” Elizabeth scolded in that special back-off-or-you-are-in-big-trouble-mister voice that never failed to quell McKay's arrogance.

“Carry on, McKay.” John ordered. “Call us when you're done.”

After a quick fast forward through the halftime show, they settled down for the third quarter.

“See, now Nebraska starts out with the big MO on their side because they just had a big play and went into halftime ahead,” John helpfully explained.

“Big MO?” Elizabeth was puzzled. “Wait, you mean momentum?”

John nodded without looking away from the screen. Virginia had the ball after winning the toss before the game and deferring to the second half. It was their chance to begin the quarter in a strong way and get the momentum back.

“Momentum is very important in college ball,” John replied. “The mental aspects of the game are vital. Now they have a chance to score and get the crowd back into the game.”

“I wish we'd get the big MO once in awhile,” Elizabeth mumbled as she leaned forward and attempted to follow the direction of the ball.

“Excuse me?”

“You know us and the Wraith or whoever else is trying to kill us this week. We could use some big MO.”

“Oh for crying out...” John sat back and crossed his leg over his knee. “So much for regaining momentum.”

“And you think baseball is slow.” Elizabeth watched the two teams seeming to stand around while the coaches studied white boards or pieces of paper and talked earnestly into their head sets. The guys in suits seemed excited about the possibility that all the talking might result in a big moment for someone, but she couldn't quite figure out whom. Finally, with a sigh of resignation Elizabeth tapped John on the shoulder.

He stopped counting ceiling tiles and turned his head in her direction.

“What are they doing?”

“Time out.” John sat up and studied the screen.

“Why, it seemed they were about to start playing again.”

“Well, just before the snap the quarterback saw something he didn't like and wanted to change the play, but the play clock was about to run out so he was forced to use a timeout.”

“There's a lot about this game I don't like,” Elizabeth said under her breath.

“What?” John's head rotated in her direction.

“What didn't he like?”

“Who knows really. He realized that the play he had called was not going to work because of the way the opposing team was lined up. He knew if they ran that play, it wouldn't work. So he wanted to change it, but ran out of time and rather than get a penalty for delay of game, he called a time out. Now they can talk it over and pick another play.”

“And the other team gets to talk it over also and may choose to line up differently?”

“Well, yeah if you look at it that way.”

“I see.” Elizabeth's statement said that she understood all too well that this could go on way longer than an inning in baseball and that at this point in time neither team seemed to be in possession of the big MO. Wisely, she chose not to comment further.

By the time the fourth quarter arrived and the score was tied, Elizabeth had taken John's job of counting ceiling tiles. She was up to 76 and wondering why the Ancients had chosen such an odd shade of green when he suddenly flung his arms out and almost knocked her off the couch.

“Oh, sorry,” he apologized and idly patted her on the leg before leaning over and grasping his knees in both hands.

Elizabeth studied the screen but could detect little difference from the last time she had checked. Both teams were once again milling about the field as if they had all the time in the world to line themselves up. You'd think they'd want to hurry up and finish the game. She had earlier been making a game of trying to determine which team John wanted to win. He alternately cursed and cheered both teams and didn't seem overly attached to either, so Elizabeth decided not to spoil his fun by asking him to choose.

“Did somebody score?” she asked politely, though it seemed to her that the crowd was as puzzled as she was because for once they seemed to be waiting expectantly.

“Virginia intercepted the ball on the Nebraska 10 yard line.”

“And now they can score?” Elizabeth was beginning to catch on.

John glanced at her and back at the screen. “You got it. If they don't blow it.”

“And what happens if they don't?”

“Well, with less than a minute on the clock, I'd say we go into overtime.”

“Dear God,” Elizabeth leaned forward alongside him. “Come on Virginia, touchdown!”

John grinned enthusiastically at her. “That's the ticket, Doc,” he said, “I told you it was an exciting game.”

Elizabeth stared at the Virginia quarterback who was now looking right and then left with the ball in his hands in an attempt to will him to throw it into someone's hands. Anyone.

“Touchdown!” John and Elizabeth both screamed and leapt to their feet as the referee raised both arms and the crowd went wild.

The men in suits all talked at once as the fireworks started and the two leaders of Atlantis threw themselves into each others arms. Elizabeth pounded John on the back and John lifted Elizabeth clear of the floor.

“It's finally over!” she cheered.

“I knew they could do it!” John yelled in her ear. Wait, did she just say...

“Elizabeth, you disappoint me.” John set her a bit away from him with both hands still on her arms to stop the relentless thumping she was giving his spine. “I thought you were finally getting into the game.”

She looked a bit guilty and gave him a sheepish look. “I was. It was fun there for a moment.”

John looked at her, not sure whether to take her at her word. Realizing that at this point it was irrelevant and remembering his earlier boredom with the baseball game, he decided to give her a break.

They both seemed to reach the same conclusion at the exact same moment...touching, so not a good idea...and took a step away from each other. John scratched the side of his head and Elizabeth developed a sudden interest in the empty popcorn bowl. On the screen the final moments of the game were playing out with the Nebraska team's futile attempt to execute a final Hail Mary which was largely ignored by the cheering crowd and the enthusiastic commentary coming from the booth.

“So...um...” John hooked his thumbs in his back pockets and didn't quite meet Elizabeth's eye. “Maybe we should check in with McKay.”

Elizabeth was already tapping her radio. Next to her John could hear something that sounded like fat-fingered computer science drop outs and then maybe when our grey beards cover our laptops and ascended Ancients have to return to finish the job, but with McKay you were never sure.

Elizabeth shrugged and tapped her headset again. “Guess they're not finished.”

“So...um...” John seemed incapable of not repeating himself. “I have some new games on my laptop. Wanna go check it out?”

The three hours she had once spent being forced to play Donkey Kong with a Saudi sheik before he would sit down at the negotiating table flashed through her mind. But her mouth opened of its own accord.

“Sure. Can we swing by the mess hall first?”

John straightened from returning the two sports DVD's to the shelf. “Absolutely, I'd love one of their nice fat submarine sandwiches. But I thought you were full of grape soda and popcorn.”

Elizabeth smirked and proceeded him out the door, his hand in the small of her back a momentary distraction. “True, but I need something to soak up all that liquid.”

“Did I tell you I just installed a new version of Donkey Kong?” John observed proudly.

Oh, sweet mother of God.

“Wonderful. Do you have any beer?”


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